The Protege IV: Lord of the Forests
by Alpha Ori
Summary: Legolas is finally called to fulfill his destiny, and Imladris is set to witness events that will change their lives forever, and set the scene for the most extraordinary events of the third age.
1. Chapter 1

THE PROTÉGÉ IV: Lord of the Forests

Author's note. Please read the series in the correct order, otherwise you will be lost. Ah, and I have included a little tribute to Ziggy and her wonderful story, The Sons of Thunder – can you find it? Thank you for reading.

CHAPTER ONE: The Catalyst

The water felt so very good, inviting him to lean back so that it covered his shoulders, infusing his senses with the aromatic oil that someone had kindly added to it. It was still only late afternoon, two full days after the near tragedy in the forests, and already things seemed to be slipping back into normalcy. He supposed that that was mainly due to the Sylvans, so accustomed to this kind of event that it formed an every-day routine, almost. He had heard this said by others, and even by Legolas himself, he had heard it but he had not digested it in any shape or form; what a hard life they lived, and yet they must love their land so much as to sacrifice themselves and their sons to harsh, vivid, frightening warfare. If anyone needed these military alliances that the festival strived to achieve, it _was _the Greenwood.

He leant back even further, wetting his hair and reclined again, only to hear a soft knock on the bathing room door. Guessing correctly that it was Erestor, he bid him enter.

The dark elf perched himself on the edge of the bath, looking down lovingly at his companion.

"Feel better?"

"Valar, yes, what would I do without you, my beautiful Erestor?"

"Oh come now, you would manage, yet I do it gladly, this you know."

And he did, for although this elf came across as distant and stern, there was nothing further from the truth. He was the paradigm of generosity, passionate yet tempered enough to make him an excellent diplomat, an even better friend, and an imaginative lover.

"You are troubled", stated Erestor; it was not a question.

"You are intuitive, as always".

"Tell me, then."

"'Tis Legolas, Erestor. I am trying hard to fathom my feelings for him, yet it is such a strange thing, for I have never had a relationship such as this one. I know that Glorfindel is falling for him, although he has not confessed this to me yet. I myself feel for him as deeply as I do for Celebrian, and yet the nature of it is different. He is my lover, yes, and there is passion, and love of a kind, yet it is not what I feel for my mate, Erestor. 'Tis such a strange thing, but I feel a bond with him, it feels so right to be with him, with or without the sex, although preferably with", he added with a smile. "

"You feel as if you have always known him; that without him, there would be something fundamental missing from your existence."

"Yes", he answered, for Erestor had put his finger on exactly how he felt, yet how could that be?

….

His recuperation had been short, and he was finally beginning to regain his strength, no small thanks to his three friends, who had coddled him to no end. He had truly felt like a decadent prince, lounging in luxurious abundance, and he had enjoyed it all. Yet he was restless and longed to test himself. He knew he would not be on top form for a few days, but that was not so bad, had he been in the Greenwood however, it would have been bad news indeed.

Brushing out his hair, he remembered the conversation he had had with Galadriel, just the day before. She had surprised him, pleasantly in fact. Yes she had lived up to her reputation and had been nothing if not direct with her questions, but her heart was intact, she was of the light and he had seen her worth. And then Celeborn; he smiled then as he remembered how the great, wise lord had splashed and played in the water with Elrond and Glorfindel, elated that the weight of time and experience had not taken the spark from him.

The end of that languid day of rest and recuperation had been strange, for he had heard a voice, as clear as if it came from Galadriel herself, which said, "You will make me jealous". Yet no one else had heard it, leaving only one possibility as to its author.

Was this the sign he was waiting for? Should he reveal all on the strength of one simple sentence? He was not sure. And so he decided he would wait and hope that his protector would make the matter a little clearer, more explicit, for there was much to lose should he be wrong.

A knock on the door revealed Glorfindel, who strode over to the stool where the prince perched, brushing through his drying hair.

"Allow me?" he asked, although he had already taken the brush from the smiling prince's hands.

Sinking the brush into the roots at the crown of his head, he began the slow, rhythmic movements of drying and shining his love's hair. Legolas tilted his head back and closed his eyes, pleasure infusing his scalp and spreading down his neck, directly to his genitals.

The warrior was transfixed by the texture and colour of the prince's hair; he could stay here, brushing the glorious silk until the end of days, but that was not to be, for he had come to Legolas with a purpose.

"Legolas, Elrond and Galadriel would invite us to tea in Celebrian's gardens", he said, watching Legolas for his reaction to being in that dead place again.

"An invitation I cannot refuse; will you come?"

"If you ask it, it will be done", he smiled, moving towards his beautiful love, pressing a soft yet demanding kiss to his plush lips, a kiss that was returned with passion.

…

Down in the private gardens, tea was being served on a stone table, surrounded by trees and bushes that were brown and shriveled, yet the place still held an enchantment about it, shady corners, towering trees, bushes, flower beds, rose bushes, creeping vines, a beautiful pond, devoid of life – the architecture was stunning, yet it was ailing, almost dead, for the flowers would not bloom, and a blight marred the leaves of tree and bush, no animals scurrying between the branches, burrowing, chirping or chattering. Yet Elrond felt strangely comforted here, for his mate's essence seemed to linger about the place, he felt her here as he did in no other place.

Galardriel observed him, as a myriad of emotions played across his wise yet stern features. She loved the elf for the happiness he had brought to her only offspring, her daughter, her dearly loved and sorely missed child.

Glorfindel arrived then, with Legolas in tow. He looked better, she thought; rested and of healthier complexion. He seemed relaxed and happier than he had over the last few days, less burdened by duty and destiny. She nodded kindly at him and was glad that her good will was returned by him.

All sat around the table as tea was poured and Celeborn reached for a sticky bun that was crying out to him.

"I should put it out of its misery, 'tis the kindest thing to do", he said magnanimously as he took a massive bight out of the soft, creamy pastry.

"I agree", stated Legolas, "sometimes one must be cruel to be kind, I shall put this one out of its misery" he said, devouring a cream cake he had been eying since before he had sat at the table.

"Umf", said Celeborn, his mouth still full of the fluffy pastry. "rrrrrffouofenoa"

"What was that?" asked Elrond, as he reached for a lemon fairy cake.

Chewing and swallowing, Celeborn repeated his unfortunate attempt at a sentence.

"I said, ' tis the merciful bite", if you can't help it, kill it, spare it a life of misery!"

Legolas snorted through his nose, narrowly avoiding a chunk of cake from flying out of his mouth.

Well well, thought Erestor. Sprits were relaxed and at ease today. He was enjoying this day, for the lords of Imladris and Greenwood were getting along just fine – good, he thought, for the future surely held great trials for them all, facing it together would make that task so much easier.

The tea was consumed, and light, easy banter was shared. Moving from their seats at the table, they found themselves under the eaves of the ailing trees, under which Legolas would not sit, even Mithrandir seemed loathe to approach them. Glorfindel sat beside him as the others took a shaded spot against the thick trunks.

Just then, a squirrel scurried before them, wagging its bushy tail and chattering as it ran up the trunk Elrond leaned against, startling him.

"What is this!" he exclaimed loudly. "A squirrel!, I have not seen a living creature in these gardens for centuries."

Legolas turned his enquiring eyes to Elrond then, locating the skittish creature, balancing himself on the edge of a sagging branch, standing on its back legs and chattering wildly.

Galadriel exclaimed then, as a robin flittered over to Legolas and perched on his shoulder, chirping its song happily into the princes pointed ear.

Glorfindel frowned then, for he was reminded of that morning when a robin had entered their chambers and sang into the prince's ear, rubbing its beak against his soft cheek.

A field mouse appeared at Legolas' feet, twitching its nose as it rubbed its forelegs together then over its ears.

The robin had fluttered over to the sentinel that Legolas had so deftly avoided, perching itself on a large branch. It was swiftly joined by the field mouse, sitting beside what should have been his enemy.

Elrond was, by now, standing as he observed the scene playing out before him. This was not normal, something was happening, but what? Erestor walked up beside him, looking askance at his lord, but Elrond had no answers, for the lord himself was looking at Mithrandir inquisitively. The wizard simply held up his hand in a signal to wait, as he stared expectantly at the protégé.

Galadriel had stiffened, her nostrils flaring as she sensed magic, for a deep vibration was pulsing around them, from the ground itself it seemed.

Legolas moved into a kneeling position, placing his hands upon his thighs and opening his mind to the dead garden, he knew the risk he took, but the events merited it, for a squirrel and a robin sat perched side by side in the branches of the sentinel that had conveyed to him the agony of Celebrian, and a field mouse sat at his heels. He needed to communicate with them, listen to them, for it seemed they had a message for him.

His eyes turned green then, as he heard it again.

"You will make me jealous, Legolas".

And then the noise began. First the squirrel, then the robin, the tree, the bushes, the roses, the mouse, animals and fauna from further afield, the very ground itself, a cacophony of voices shouting words, sounds, emotions, simple notes and complex polyphony that grew so loud that Legolas' ears began to pulsate, then vibrate, sending waves of pain through his head as the deafening choir hammered into him. They were shouting at him, it seemed. Each expressing the message in its own way, raising its voice above the others in order to be heard. Legolas pressed his hands over his sensitive ears, yet they would not be silenced.

The other elves could only stare on, for the air crackled with energy and Legolas kneeled as if in a trance, protecting his sensitive ears from something only he could hear, brow furrowed, eyes closed.

Galadriel gasped audibly then, for she saw the face of a striking elf before her, a mischievous smile upon her beauteous visage, placing a finger before her lips in a plea for silence; what she did not know is that the maia had seen the same vision as he closed his eyes and concentrated, opening them again and smiling in awe.

Curling into himself now, Legolas increased the pressure over his ears, for the pain was turning into agony, yet they would not stop. Elrond was tempted to run over to the prince and help him, for he was suffering visibly. Glorindel simply sat by and watched on. He understood that this was not the time for protectiveness, but silent support.

Celeborn watched his wife. He knew that if she was calm, then he could relax, and vice versa, of course. Yet she was watching on, her eyes slightly more open and rounded than when she was relaxed, she was not alarmed though, she was surprised, and a little shocked.

When would it stop, thought the prince, or perhaps it wouldn't. And then he realized that they were trying to tell him something he just was not grasping. He tried to concentrate through the pain, for he thought he had detected a structure to the chaotic noise. And so he began to channel the voices, looking for the words and emotions each had in common, almost like picking out the ingredients of a sauce.

"Rejoice"

"The bearer of fruit"

"Kelementari"

"Palurien"

He could not have asked for a clearer sign, it was time, there was no longer any doubt.

And so, still in a trance-like state, he mumbled the words he had waited four years to reveal.

"She comes"

Galadriel was shocked for she knew of whom he spoke, although she had been asked to keep silent. It would be a momentous sign, an event the likes of which no elf on Arda had witnessed, and so she knew that the reason must be powerful indeed. Looking back over to the kneeling elf, she felt her perspective suddenly change, not that she had underestimated him, yet she now saw him in a different light, the mother-son relationship that had been developing had changed, into what, she knew not.

Legolas had now opened his eyes, the irisis indistinguishable from the whites, just vibrant green mist. He slowly removed his hands from his ears as he heaved a great audible sigh.

Glorfindel touched his shoulders then but Legolas did not acknowledge it. Elrond also moved closer, kneeling in front of him, Erestor and the lords of Lorien behind him, all waiting for the prince to show some sign of coming back to himself.

Mithrandir walked over to them then, standing behind the still kneeling prince.

"Give him a moment, don't force him out of it."

And so they waited, as the prince slowly regained his conscience of the physical world. Blinking his eyes rapidly, his body finally relaxing itself as he tilted his head back, closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them again and fix his blue eyes on the friends that surrounded him.

"Are you alright", asked Elrond, reaching out his hand to touch the side of the prince's head.

"I will be", he said then, almost in a whisper, for he was still shaken by the ordeal.

"Will you tell us what has happened?" asked Glorfindel as he searched his lover's eyes.

"Aye I will tell you, come close", he requested, gesturing for them all to join him on the floor, for he did not feel like rising just yet.

"Elrond, Glorfindel, – you remember the first time we spoke and I told you of my ability to communicate with animals and plants, I told you then that there was more to the tale, but that the time was not ripe."

"I remember it well, Legolas, and we did not insist for you were adamant about it, yet we all understood that the missing piece would be important – this we knew" explained Elrond.

He looked long and hard at each of his companions then, judging their state of mind, and what they may or may not have deduced.

"At the Spring Festival in Greenwood, four years ago, something happened that changed my life, and my people were witness to it. They do not speak of it for they were not at liberty to do so, yet although it happened to me, you would do well to ask my people, for they saw more of it than I."

"Go on", urged Erestor, enthralled by the tale that was finally being unraveled.

"I was visited by she who protects me. She revealed to me that I had been chosen to do her bidding, and that by accepting to do so, my destiny would be intimately entwined with the light of her progeny, the fate of the trees, of all trees, would depend on me – in that I would do her bidding, and in the doing of it, achieve another goal. I cannot say what she meant, not fully, for although I have deduced some of it, my future is still unclear to me."

He paused here, for he needed to know what impact his words were having.

"So," began Glorfindel. "You are protected by, by whom?"

Galadriel spoke then, her face placid, her eyes ablaze. "Yavanna, he is the protégé of Yavanna."

Glorfindel, Celeborn and Erestor whipped their head round and faced the lady, trying to comprehend the simple sentence she had just uttered.

But Elrond had an odd expression about him, looking down to the side as if remembering something.

"Elrond, do you know of what I speak?", asked an intrigued Legolas, it had never occurred to him that the lore master would be able to shed light on the matter that had plagued him for years.

I will confess to you, Legolas, that I had a vision some days ago. Glorfindel and Erestor were witness to it, and I had thought to mention it once the tale was revealed. I was waiting for you to speak, and now that you have, this is what I saw.

Galadriel leaned forward then, preparing to memorize each word that Elrond would utter.

You were shining with the light of the Valar, the light spoke to me of nature and its importance to the future of Arda. It spoke to me of trees, of two trees and a catalyst, he whispered. I saw you standing proudly before a withered tree, and a white blossom rested against your chest, and then, I saw the eyes of my brother, happy, smiling and contented, as if some purpose had been fulfilled.

Legolas gasped audibly then, for something vital had clicked into place. His hairs stood painfully on end as his eyes watered, not from sadness or pain, but from complete and utter shock.

"What is it? Asked Mithrandir urgently, for he had seen the piece fall into place.

"I knew I had been chosen for a task set by the Valar, I knew a part of what that meant – the protection of the forests of Middle Earth, just as the Ents were and still are empowered to do. Yet I have been troubled by what that implied, who was my destiny tied up with, what was the purpose within the purpose?"

They stared on as the riddle was slowly worked out, in some cases confirming what they already knew and in others, revealing startling news that would require immediate attention.

"'The light of her progeny'" said Legolas, thinking out aloud. "The light of the _two trees_, Galathilion, of course! And the one that stands for freedom and unity of all the races on Arda", he paused here, for he could hardly believe what he was about to say, yet it was true, he felt it in his very soul, "The White Tree. The White Tree of Gondor."

"But wait", said Celeborn, trying to get his head around the conundrum. "You are to protect the White Tree of Gondor?"

"Nay, not protect, _restore_, Lord Celeborn. Restore its blossoms".

"But that is not possible!" cried Elrond. For to do so implies the return of the king, only then can it blossom."

Legolas held Elrond's gaze for long minutes, watching as comprehension slammed into him with the force of a charging steed.

"And the king, is your kin, Elrond. It was not Elros' eyes you saw in your vision, but his descendant, the future king of Gondor and Anor, hope for the future of Middle Earth."


	2. Chapter 2

The Protégé IV: Lord of the Forest

CHAPTER TWO: Understanding

What had started as afternoon tea in Celebrian's dead garden, had slowly but surely transformed into a shocking, life-changing succession of revelations that had changed them all, for great deeds lay ahead, and they would all be a part of them, although _how_ was not at all clear for most.

After Legolas had unraveled the mystery both to them and to himself, he had begged leave from them all. He needed time alone to think on what had been uncovered, what it meant to him, his family, his realm, his life, and so he had walked off into the outlying forests of Imladris, leaving the stunned lords in the gardens, not quite knowing what to do.

Elrond walked over to Glorfindel, who was looking after his lover with a face that expressed more than words ever could. There was nothing he wanted more than to join his prince, even in silent vigil, yet he knew he would not be welcome, for Legolas had come to know his destiny, and Glorfindel knew what that felt like in the flesh.

Placing a tender hand on his shoulder, Elrond bid him come. Glorfindel could only nod, following Elrond silently.

They had decided to join in debate in Elrond's library. It was unthinkable to be alone right now; they all needed each other, needed to talk, to iron out the patches and chunks of information. Mithrandir had readily accepted - the calmest of them all perhaps, for he knew more than most of what was to come - he too was a protégé.

Arriving at their destiny, Elrond called for wine to be brought up. They sat on the balcony, sipping at their glasses, all of them silent, for what to say? Where to start?

Celeborn reached for the table and deposited his glass there, leaning back in his chair.

"In all my long years, I have never seen the likes", he mused. "I knew that darkness would come again, that even now as we talk, it rises once more, yet the Valar have seen a way to defeat it even before it has truly begun. They have, in effect, set out a route map, a plan for us to take up, should we dare", mused Celeborn.

"'Tis an interesting interpretation, Celeborn", added Erestor. But why Yavanna? Why should it come from her and no other? If it _was _she who named Legolas as her champion, then does that make _her_ the artifice of this plan?"

"I think not, Erestor", said Galadriel, joining the debate for the first time. "I believe that her request for a champion would not have been unilateral. She would have needed to put it to the high council; it would need to be approved by all, for no Vala is free to make such monumental decisions on a personal whim. This she knows, for it was the same when she requested the Ents to protect her trees."

"Aye you are right", confirmed the maia, for he knew well the politics of the Valar. "This choice was approved by all, and I would wager a condition was wrought into the plan, one she had not requested or foreseen but accepted, for the sake of her children."

"That would be true to character", added Glorfindel, smiling. "It is my experience that nothing is given freely in situations such as these. There are always conditions, conditions that are not necessarily forfeits, but boons also."

Elrond smiled back at his lover, for indeed he had been sent back to life, in exchange for his service to Elrond and his family.

Stroking his beard pensively, Mithrandir began his conjectures once more.

"Let us piece this together. We know that Yavanna brought before the high council, her desire for a champion to protect her forests. We also believe that the Valar granted this thing, with the condition that his destiny be tied with that of the future union of Middle Earth. And if this is true, it is the simplest yet most marvelous plan, because the return of the King of Gondor and Anor depends on one, white tree, a white tree that is under the protection of Yavanna, and by default, her champion; who better than _he_ to see it done?"

He looked triumphantly at his avid audience. He knew he was right, or very nearly, and so did Galadriel.

"I believe you are right, Mithrandir, yet we should be wary for a while, for new information may change our interpretation. It is also clear to me, that we, as witnesses, are to be intimately tied to the coming events, and never better nor more literally expressed", she stressed, glancing at Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor, before continuing.

"The powers do not reveal themselves readily, and when they do, there is a purpose to it, there can be no misunderstanding here. We here are meant to play a role, pivotal or otherwise, yet we must, as such, be united in our common goal", she finished, looking at every elf in turn, her eyes boring into theirs, searching their intentions. Of course she had already known they would all do their part, gladly, but the return of the king was an issue under debate in elven scholarly society. Some defended the idea, yet others believed that placing another of Isildur's kin in such a position of power was a mistake, and that they should learn from the errors of the past. However, Galadriel saw no hesitation, they were all in agreement and that would make the task just a little easier, perhaps.

Elrond had turned, walking a way into the library. This would explain the confounding bond he felt with Legolas, it was destiny, he was meant to be close to this elf, intimately or not, and he suspected it was the same for the others, although especially for Glorfindel. He would need to talk to him privately later.

….

The light breeze soothed his hammering heart as he finally perched himself high above the canopy of trees, bracing his back against the sympathetic trunk.

He felt sad, so weighed down by grief and melancholy that his eyes brimmed with moisture and his chest throbbed. Tilting his face to the dappled sunlight that filtered through the green leaves, he closed his eyes and drew a heavy breath, falling into pensive reverie.

He had known this day would come, and he had accepted it with great humility, for to be chosen by one such as her was still beyond his ken. Yet accept it he had, and he had prepared himself as best he could, given the information he had. Now, he would take on the task before him, becoming Lord of the Forests, his duties would take him away from home far more frequently, and his father would not be happy – how he would manage he had no idea, for he was the leader of the Greenwood army. His father, yes – he would need to write a missive immediately, for to be invested as such, he needed his sire's leave. And what then of Glorfindel? He had found happiness with this legendary warrior and he was loathe to leave him.

He heaved another sigh as he continued to analyze the situation. He thought then that perhaps he was over-reacting – maybe things would work out if he could only calm himself and think rationally. His lady had not demanded any specific duties from him, not yet anyway. She had only stated that he should heed the forests should they call to him. Perhaps he had thousands of years of peace ahead of him, before his destiny would begin to play out.

Yes, he would hold to that. Perhaps he would be able to fulfill his duties alongside his already considerable work load at home. Perhaps the change would be gradual, and therefore bearable. Yes, he would cling to this, for it was all he had.

Smiling now, he allowed his body to calm itself, closed his eyes, and rested his weary mind.

…..

"What happens then? If she comes, it is for a purpose", stated Celeborn.

"We do not know", finished Galadriel for him. "There are no answers, Celeborn. We can only wait and observe, there is no point in wild conjectures at this point."

"Indeed", agreed the wizard."

"You know", began Mithrandir, "'Tis far more than he lets on. He is not to be made a lord, but _king_ of the forests. There is a difference, politically and otherwise."

"But that is nothing short of declaring a universal king of Elvendom", exclaimed Celeborn.

"Nay, I think not", replied the wizard. "You see, in a sense he would be just that, for he would have executive powers over _your_ woods, Galadriel, just as he would of _yours_", he added, looking at Elrond. With this recognition, the Valar wish to make it clear that this elf is he who will see the task through, and no other, it is their will and they wish not only to state it through me, but to _show_ it directly to you or any that would oppose him, for there can be no doubts in anyone's mind of his authority."

"I am not sure I understand, replied Elrond. How will they show it?"

"That we do not know, said the maia", looking at each of them in turn, willing them to give their opinion. "But what Galadriel says is true. The Valar have allowed us to witness the message, they have already involved us, and there _is_ a reason for it.

"I can only hope that whatever it is, it does not irrevocably change him." Began Glorfindel. "He will not shun this thing bestowed upon him, but he knows the price, for he already pays it as Prince of the Greenwood. How much more will he need to give as king? You have come to know him, Elrond, Erestor, all of you have to an extent. You have seen the playful, mischievous being hiding under the façade of pomp and protocol. That is who he is, that is his true nature, and he wishes not to lose it – _I _wish he doesn't lose it."

Mithrandir considered the warrior's words then, and decided that this love Glorfindel held for Legolas was a very fortunate turn of events indeed.

…

Afternoon gave way to dusk, as Glorfindel walked in the gardens in search of Legolas. He had passed by his rooms only to find them empty, and he was not in the front gardens, and so he headed towards the more solitary reaches of the grounds, near the warrior barracks.

Yet the barracks were silent, and Legolas was nowhere to be found. As he wound his way through the trees and bushes, he began to pick up the sounds of children, and he was reminded of the group they had come across, playing Forest Lord and then squealing in terror as they had seen the very elf approaching them.

He chuckled out loud, for he had been tickled by the event. Only this time, they were not squealing in terror, but in delight. Fastening his pace, he finally came across them, a group of six standing together, watching the solitary warrior in the glade. Yet they were so engrossed they were not aware of his approach until he had joined their close-knit circle.

One child jumped visibly as he realized that the figure standing next to him was very tall, definitely not a child. Looking up, he realized just who it was and smiled reverently, for Glorfindel was well loved by the citizens of Imladris, and one of the children's heroes.

Yet Glorfindel felt the childish thought cross his mind, that they should be scared of _him_ too. He almost wanted them to be for what it would imply, and then quickly changed his mind; it was simple arrogant pride that had possessed him momentarily, and he chuckled again.

They all turned back to watching the spectacle, and for the first time, Glorfindel realized what they were mesmerized by. For it was Legolas himself - he who had scared the living daylights out of these very children, who was working out, running through his personal training session with a long pole.

He was stripped to the waist, sweat pouring from his naked chest, long hair plastered to his head and shoulders. His moves were completely choreographed, for they obeyed a 2 to 4 beat, every one of which corresponded to a move or stance, jump or lunge. One, two, three, four, step, twirl, swivel, lunge, and so on. Every move was millimetric, perfectly timed and executed, every leap, twist and summersault.

He must have been training for a while, for the prince's body heaved with the effort of velocity and strength, both explosive and sustained, and no one was more impressed than Melvenion, for this was the elf that he had been frightened of, this was the warrior who had saved his life, and that Melvenion could not even bring himself to look at. He had felt guilty then, had felt he would never be accepted in the warrior ranks, he had felt like a coward. Yet now, watching him train, and with Glorfindel by his side, he felt empowered, the desire to redeem himself coming to the fore. And so it was that as soon as the prince finished his routine, Melvenion picked a wild flower from the ground and ran over to the prince. He slowed his pace as he approached, just a little fear threatening to rear its head again. Yet he held the prince's gaze, holding out his arm and showing him the small white flower he had picked.

A small distance away, his friends together with Glorfindel watched on, thinking how brave he was to approach this most intimidating and dangerous warrior.

Legolas stood tall, proud, watching as the child slowed his approach, wary yet bold, a blossom in his podgy hand, reaching out to redemption and friendship.

Legolas smiled then, for something had suddenly yet so very clearly slipped into place. This blossom was a token of friendship, a token of life – a show of the beauty of nature, its strength, its importance even in these small gestures, it was a token, a _demonstration._ He knew then, he knew what he should do, and he was plagued by uncertainty no more.

Reaching out his hand, he took the blossom, his eyes never leaving his new, young friend, as he reached back and poked it into this hair, kneeling before the awestruck child.

"You are brave, and courageous, young one, as is your father. You would count me as friend?" asked Legolas.

"I , I , yes, but – will you teach me the pike?", he asked then with rounded eyes, for truth be told, he was intimidated, but he _did_ want to do that with a stick too. Yet he truly wanted to call this warrior friend, for he knew no better fighter.

"When the time is right, I will help you. For now, I am contented to call you friend, Melvenion. May I call on you if I need you? He asked solemnly.

"Oh, yes, of course my lord." And with that, he bowed low as his mother had taught him, and ran off to join his friends, beaming as they crowded him, asking for the details.

Glorfindel smiled indulgently as he walked passed them, bound for his beautiful prince.

"You worked up quite a sweat" he said rhetorically, ogling the magnificent body from head to foot.

Legolas simply smiled enigmatically, cocking his head in the direction of the house, walking off, and fully expecting to be followed.

…

He was tired, very tired, for the day had taxed him. He needed to write a letter to his father which he would ask a hawk to deliver for him - he needed his consent, wanted it.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts as he bid the caller enter.

Galdithion and Henian popped their heads around the door, unsure as to whether the prince would be accompanied.

Seeing that he was alone, lounging on the bed, they hobbled in, closing the door behind them and sitting on the bed.

"You have been in the company of the lords all day, is all well? asked Galdithion, frowning as he asked the question.

Legolas sighed, wondering where on Arda he should start the telling of what had happened that day, for they would need to know.

Henian crossed his arms, albeit somewhat painfully, a sign he wanted an immediate answer.

"Alright, my friends, 'tis not my intention to hide anything from you. I just need to – to collect my thoughts, for the day has been long, and difficult and I am tired, truth be told.

"We have all evening, my friend – come unburden yourself", urged Henian, looking worriedly at Galdithion.

"I have received a sign – I am to reveal my identity forthwith, here in Imladris."

The two friends sat dumbfounded before Galdithion finally spoke.

"Then the wait is over?"

"Almost, Gal. I must first compose my letter to the king…"

"Legolas, your father knew this could happen at any time, he even made you pack your ceremonial attire, just in case. Indeed I would not be surprised if he had already known this was to happen here in the valley."

Legolas contemplated his friend then. It was true, his father had told him to take it, 'just in case' he had said nonchalantly.

"Perhaps, even so, I still need to formally request his leave, this you know."

"Aye we know, and you also know that he will not defy the will of the Valar, he will consent and be proud of it, as will we", he said.

…..

Later that night, Legolas sat at the table in his room, tapping a quill against his forehead, a half-written parchment before him. Deciding that simplicity was his best bet, he continued with his letter.

_Father_

_Great things have already been achieved here in Imladris, and many more will likely take place in the next few days. Reestablishing relations with the Noldor has proved to be most successful, and great friendships have been forged._

_I will write again to give you the full details of the treaties you and I prepared together, but know that I have every confidence that we shall strike more than beneficial deals, both commercially and militarily._

_Now, I must tell you the news I did not want to start this letter with, for you would have worried, and that is neither necessary, nor my intention. For you see, the time has come. I have received an unequivocal message from my lady – I am to reveal myself._

_As fate would have it, the Lords Elrond, Glorfindel, Celeborn, Erestor, Mithrandir and the lady Galadriel were witness to the message, and I must tell you that the full of it has been discovered. You and I must talk of it as soon as circumstances allow, for I cannot put it to pen._

_I know that you will not come, should not come, and I also know that I must need beg your leave to become that which the lady demands of me._

_Know that I love you well, that I yearn for your company, and that I await your reply._

_Your son,_

_C.P. Legolas_


	3. Chapter 3

The Protégé IV: Lord of the Forest

CHAPTER THREE: Visitation

The noise was becoming louder by the hour. Two days had passed since the message, and he had suffered intermittent episodes of what he could only describe as extra-corporeal sensation. His mind would wander somewhere else, and that somewhere else would become the here and now. It happened to him anywhere, in bed, at breakfast… Of course, he would startle those he was with, for his eyes would change and he would become unresponsive. The episodes were short, but when he came back to himself, he would sometimes startle, for he would be holding something or be mid-stride in the garden.

And then the incessant noise. It would not stop. Sometimes it would be a low murmur but others the crescendo would make him cringe. It was fraying his nerves, making him testy and impossible to be with.

Glorfindel watched as the prince frowned into the distance. He was worried about him, and was unsure if his turns were a part and parcel of what was to come, whatever that was. He had even sought the council of Galadriel and Elrond. Both had coincided in that this was probably a natural occurrence – his communication with nature becoming more enhanced, exposing him to new sensations he still had to come to terms with. He came back to himself as he realized Legolas watched him.

"You are worried".

"Yes, I admit I am uncomfortable not knowing if this can be considered normal, given the circumstances – I mean", he said, flapping his arms around, "there is nothing normal about this." Even Glorfindel, it seemed, was suffering from the frustration of being powerless.

"I believe it is, love. I think perhaps my ability is changing, heightening or even becoming something else I yet have to comprehend. What I _do_ know, Findel, is that I am being summoned into the forest - I suspect I should be there, and then perhaps this infernal cacophony will stop."

"You would go alone? You know it is dangerous, orcs have attacked you twice now."

"Peace! Yes, I remember, yet I think that will not be an issue for long. The powers at work are too strong for orcs to be a problem within the boundaries of Elrond's protected realm."

Glorfindel picked up on the word 'protected' and wondered how he had known, for nobody had told him of the ring that his lord wielded.

"I will not be alone, Glorfindel, for I also believe that I should take you and the others with me, for whatever is to happen, it will happen there, in the forest, today, or maybe tomorrow."

Glorfindel was stunned that at this turn of events, today or tomorrow? So quick, hardly any time to digest what had happened.

"Finally! When do we leave?"

Legolas smiled tenderly then. "Today, after lunch. I should speak to the lords of course."

"Then come, prince. Let us do this thing." He said almost joyously. To Glorfindel's mind, there was nothing to benefit from avoiding the unavoidable. He also wanted to minimize the time that Legolas had to stew on the matter, thinking perhaps it was indeed better for him to follow his instincts on this matter, because it really was all they had.

…..

After breakfast, Legolas and Glorfindel went to the library where they had arranged to meet all those concerned.

Arriving, they found Elrond and Erestor talking quietly to each other.

"Ah, Legolas, we await the lords of Lorien and Mithrandir – come," said Elrond, ushering the pair over to the semi-circle of chairs in front of a low table, a steaming pot of tea awaiting them.

Elrond visibly fidgeted, although he did try to camouflage it, although not entirely successfully, as Erestor smiled slyly at Glorfindel.

The lords arrived then, followed by Mithrandir, an expectant look on his weathered face.

As Erestor poured the tea as silence descended upon the group, and it was not until everyone had finally been served, that Legolas began his exposition.

"I have requested your presence here this morning, my lady and lords, because I believe I now know the way forward.

"Ah, at last we are rid of this damned impasse, exclaimed Celeborn, ever an elf of action.

"At first I was plagued with finding a path, trying to understand what was required of me, reading between the lines of what had already come to pass, yet that road was fruitless. It was yesterday however, after a simple, childish gesture, but that was clearer to me than if it had been said in voice - it all fell into place when Melvenion handed me a single white blossom."

He paused then, giving his friends the chance to ask for clarification, yet he was met with expectant silence, and so he continued.

First, I believe I must enter the outlying forests and await whatever destiny has in store for me, today after lunch."

Elrond was the first to break the surprised silence.

"Why?" was all he could manage, however.

"I think I am being summoned, that is why the noise will not stop. I think I am meant to be there, and not here, hence those strange turns when it actually seemed I was being physically transported – I just did not understand the significance of the sensation."

"Can you fathom its meaning, Legolas? Can you tell what they say?" asked the lady.

"Nay, at least not entirely. I capture the underlying emotion of it though. This seems to be the way it will be – for the messages I receive are through sensation, emotion, not language. What I do know is that it _is_ a summons, I have no doubt. They call to me and … to _you_", he finished, casting his eyes over all of them.

Mithrandir nodded then, seemingly agreeing with the prince, for he had said as much before. The Valar did not show themselves on a whim, if they had all been present when the message was received, they were meant to be present now, it made perfect sense and he said as much.

"Then we are all meant to witness this, it seems, for your reasoning is sound, Legolas. It is logical to assume that whatever is to happen, it must be contrasted and seconded in order to have any credence for the rest of Elvendom."

"Indeed, yet it seems so unlikely that I should be included in this lordly pilgrimage. The lords of Imladris and Lorien, Glorfindel as representative of his house, Mithrandir as the Valar's witness, yet me? Who am I to be chosen? What have I ever done to merit this honor?" pleaded Erestor, for he truly did not understand – he was humbled yet perplexed.

"That, Erestor, is easy", began Galadriel. "For you see, for our prince to see this through, not only in his new capacity and responsibilities, but the fulfillment of his ultimate destiny, he will need his friends, need the calm, solid presence of this loved ones, their comfort, support, their _love_", she stressed, holding Erestor's gaze steadily. Our band of brotherhood is based on lordship, yes, for we are the representatives of the principal elven realms, with the exception of Mithlond, of course. But it is also founded on empathy, a shared desire to aid our prince in his task, and by default the Valar - that evil may be finally vanquished, this is our joint task, with Legolas at the fore."

"And we will be there - I believe I speak for all of us?" queried Mithrandir. He did not need to ask, his question was rhetorical, but Galadriel had made a rallying speech of it, one that required a pledge to form a part of this most noble of feats.

"Aye you do, Mithrandir, for I would not miss it for the world", added Glorfindel, the others nodding in agreement, a gleam of anticipation in their ancient eyes, and in the case of Erestor, just a hint of moisture.

"Wait, you implied there was something more", prodded Celeborn.

"Yes. After whatever is to happen in the forests, I believe I must show myself publically, manifest my ability."

"Wha, how?" asked Glorfindel, intrigued at the possibilities.

"I will make a gift, a gift to the lord of the house and his family", he said, holding Elrond's intrigued expression.

"What gift", whispered Erestor.

"_That,_ is a _surprise_," he said, smiling mischievously.

…..

He had been right. As soon as he settled himself in the boughs of a tree, the unbearable cacophony had ceased. He had managed to clear his mind and was now enjoying his first moments of silence for days. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body, thinking on what was to come. He had the drift of it, but it was the details, strangely, that worried him.

The lords had set themselves down a distance away. Legolas had asked them to give him solitude for now, he had insisted that whatever they may hear or see, they should not enter the glade he had chosen for himself, and no matter how much they had insisted he tell them more, he would not - and so they had set up their makeshift camp and heeded his wishes. No one spoke however, for each was lost in his own musings, and the tension and apprehension of the unknown was palpable, their racing hearts in stark contrast with the peace of the place.

Glorfindel bit into an apple and contemplated the beauty surrounding him, the crunch of it seeming overly loud to him. He was surprised at how many varieties of flowers sprang from the ground, the vibrant colours of tree and bush, shining brighter than usual to his eyes. There was a background chatter of mammals, insects and birds – the forest was teeming with the sounds of life, large and small, feathered and furry. And then he detected an underlying hum, deep and vibrating, pulsating. He wondered at that, for it unnerved him. One look around him confirmed that the others were thinking very much along the same lines, for Galadriel was looking around her in wonder, as Elrond inspected the ground and the many living things sprouting from it.

"This is – abnormal to my eye", began Glorfindel. The variety of plant and animal species seems far outbalanced for this time of year – do you not agree?" he said hesitantly. He was not well-versed in the natural world, over and above what experience had taught him, of course, yet even he could see this was an unnatural occurrence.

"You are right, my friend. This, for example", he said, brushing his fingers over a wild flower, "this species blooms much later, and yet this glade is blanketed in it, and this plant you see here, this grows further south and has considerable healing properties, we use it to calm irritated or burnt skin, I am almost tempted to collect it for the halls, for it is hard to come by."

"Wait, Elrond. Do not. I am not sure we should stem the life of anything growing here. Perhaps after events have unraveled themselves. 'Tis truly beautiful, this early garden of misplaced species, almost as if they have sprung up at our coming…" she whispered reverently, for it had been so, this woodland clearing was becoming a garden, coming to life the longer they stayed within its boundaries.

Afternoon grew into evening, and although the sounds of nature never ceased, they did change, signaling the onset of dusk, and so Glorfindel and Erestor set about lighting a small fire and collecting water, while Mithrandir wandered off and sat beneath a large tree, lighting his pipe and puffing out a cloud of heavy smoke in the shape of a perfect oak tree, smiling as it slowly dissipated.

The moon was full tonight, her blue light filtered through the boughs, dappling the floor with an unearthly collage of twinkling light. As they gathered around the comforting fire, Glorfindel produced the results of his foraging. Rabbits, already prepared for the pot, succulent white roots, herbs, nuts and berries. Erestor set about preparing the stew they would feast on, for he had a reputation as an excellent field cook.

"Do you think Legolas will join us for the repast?" asked Erestor while Glorfindel fussed over the nascent fire.

"I do not know, I hope he does, for he has been alone in there for many hours, I wonder what he does in there, alone in the dark with his thoughts", mused Glorfindel.

"Be at peace, Glorfindel. We would know if there were ought wrong. He is well", assured Galadriel.

Elrond looked at her – he knew she would sense it if anything went awry. And so he relaxed as much as he could under the circumstances, although he could tell Glorfindel was not at all convinced.

Thus past the time, as the meal was prepared and consumed, the elves engaging in stilted conversation. No one was concentrating, too tuned in to the events on the other side of the tree line, for something transcendental was about to happen. And so it was, that during a lull in the conversation, Elrond sat up straight of a sudden, eyes cast down to the right, listening for a repeat of what he thought he had heard.

"What was that?" he whispered.

"What was what?" asked Erestor.

"Shh, listen closely."

And sure enough, they slowly but unequivocally began to register laughter, of children? Or maidens, perhaps. Elrond looked at Galadriel and then at the wizard, seeking confirmation that they too had heard it. They all had, for they had stopped all movement, training their sensitive ears on the source of the sounds.

As the hours passed, the laughter became louder, sometimes a childish giggling, others a deeper chuckle. A lone singer gave voice to the most stunning aria they had ever heard, bringing a tear to their eyes for the beauty of it. Later, women spoke or sang, although they could not make out the words. They even heard soft sighs and gasps, including a moan of delight which had the lords sharing a surprised glance at each other. It could have been many things, but it _had_ sounded like someone in the throes of ecstasy. Glorfindel was reminded of the words Yavanna had said to Legolas when she had sent him the message. 'You will make me jealous' she had said. He wondered then, if the Vala would take her pleasure with her chosen one. Just the thought of it was getting his blood up, for to imagine his prince with Yavanna – it was simply too much, and so he put it out of his mind, storing the information for a more opportune moment, yet ask he would.

They could not sleep during what they would all later come to call their 'silent forest vigil', for the events that had taken place thus far were the most magical and mysterious most would ever see, and even though they had not seen with their own eyes, the experience was enough to change them forever, bond them together in eternal friendship and collusion.

It was almost dawn when the sounds changed. The laughter and singing stopped, the sounds of nature had stopped, the lack of sound was in itself an unnatural occurrence – something was happening.

Mithrandir stood then, followed by Galadriel and the others, all peering into the trees, straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of who they supposed would be Legolas. It was then that the shining began, for the background forest was lit up of a sudden, the silver-blue light growing until the trunks could no longer be distinguished. From the light, thee silhouetted figures appeared.

Olorin smiled tenderly as he looked on, for he knew he was in the presence of a Vala. Galadriel stared wide-eyed, for she was beginning to make out the figure of the tall lady, Kelementari she knew - Yavanna walked the Earth.

Elrond's eyes were round and wide, full of moisture, for the sight before him was so utterly moving, so painfully beautiful even though her face could not be fully distinguished. Glorfindel however, even in the face of the most spectacular of spiritual events, only had eyes for his prince, for the change that had come about him was nothing short of shocking.

As the prince finally materialized before them, still a distance away, the other two silhouettes hovered at the tree line. The tallest held out her arm, hailing the one moving away from her, as if handing over her king to Elvendom, into their care. They finally disappeared into the background of light, as the new lord slowly moved forwards, his figure becoming clearer, more defined.

Glorfindel's eyes focused upon the figure of the Forest Lord. His tall, strong body, almost naked save for the ankle-length skirt he wore, had been painted green, blue, purple and white, in the patterns of the forest. He shone with unearthly brilliance, and all manner of leaves, blossoms and fruits had been weaved into his abnormally long, thick hair, creating a crown of sorts, but that was indistinguishable from his exotically twisted and braided hair. There were so many details, he had been decorated in so many ways, describing it all, seeing it all, would take days, yet the overall effect had almost brought them to their knees, and had stunned the most ancient lords upon Arda. He was beauty to behold, light that hurt the eyes, a paradigm of atavistic fertility, strength and utter other-worldliness.

Coming closer, skirt flowing behind him, Legolas watched them all, waited for he knew not, all he knew is that he was so very weary… yet no one said a word, the silence a testimony to their awe.

"Let us sit by the fire that I may speak with you."

They silently acquiesced, moving slowly as if in a daze, sitting themselves before the crackling light, expectant, awe-struck faces trained on that of the prince.

"It is done, and I am changed", he murmured.

"Tell us, lord", prompted Celeborn.

"I do not know where to begin, for so much has happened, so much has been said and done, given and taken. I am now King, yet I feel no different, save for the life experience of this night. There is much to tell, 'tis true, yet I would wait to tell you of it, for I must get it all into perspective, and allow myself to rest, for I am so very tired", he said quietly, pleading almost.

Glorfindel held out his arms then, and Legolas did not hesitate, moving into them and allowing himself to be pulled back against his warrior's strong chest. Glorfindel held him tight, as the others watched on, still unable to take their eyes of the newly crowned king. Elrond and Erestor moved forward, surrounding the half-reclining lord, now reaching out to touch his resplendent skin, his woven hair, his painted chest.

Relaxing into his lovers' embrace and allowing their tentative touches to comfort him, his eyes began to wander. The world was becoming hazy, too many emotions, too much exertion, his senses overloaded – he needed calm and silence, the loving embrace of friends and lovers.

Glorfindel stroked his arms, his sides, he longed to rake his fingers through the strangely long, thick hair, yet that was impossible, it had been too intricately decorated with leaves, feathers, cones, acorns, berries, flowers and blossoms, twisted and braided into a woodland crown the likes of which they had never seen. He felt the prince relax then, allowing his body to lose its tension and sleep, anchored to the world by his three lovers. Galadriel and Celeborn silently witnessed the display of love, friendship and comfort, as they kept silent vigil over the four lords.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter note: this chapter has been censored to comply with ffnet regulations. Please visit lotrfanfictiondotcom for the full version. Thanks.

CHAPTER FOUR: Aftermath

As the new day dawned, the royal party slipped into the house unnoticed. Each headed to their quarters, except for Glorfindel, who stayed with Legolas until well into the afternoon of the next day, resting beside him, watching over him as he sat out on the balcony in contemplative silence. Erestor had delivered the strange chest that had been left at the tree line from which Legolas had emerged. It was heavy, made of a deep red wood and what appeared to be antler, or bone of some kind. The carvings upon it were of the highest workmanship, intricate, twisted, almost in the likeness of the forest lord's hair. It lay at the base of the bed, unopened for now.

Early evening saw a wet Legolas sitting before the dressing table, Glorfindel behind him, a look of deep concentration on his face as his fingers deftly picked out the adornments that had been worked into his hair.

There was already a considerable pile on the sideboard, with all manner of objects that Glorfindel had not been able to see that night. Just the weight of it all must have been difficult to bear, there were even river shells in there, a colorful rock and a chunk of moss for all that was holy! He was intrigued, delving into the twists and swirls of golden hair, wondering what on Arda the symbolism of it all was.

"Will you tell me, fair Legolas, of what happened in the glade?" asked the warrior, not really expecting a full telling, but trying anyway.

"One day, yes I will tell you, but today, and tomorrow, I must try to get it into some semblance of order, for I would not know where or how to start. Today I am lazy and pensive, preparations must be made for the next and final step, and my mind is astray."

When Glorfindel did not make to answer him, Legolas continued.

"'Tis not for want of hiding the events from you, my love, for I have no reason to do so, yet I must prioritize now, I know you will understand when you see what is at hand. All I now, is that I love you above all others, would have you, my valiant Lord of Gondolin, by my side _always_" he whispered, gazing into Glorfindel's brilliant blue eyes, opening his mouth to receive a passionate kiss that the warrior could not hold back.

"We should dress and at least make an appearance at dinner. My people will be puzzled at my disappearance, and you know how tenacious Galdithion and Henian can be.", he added, as he rose and began to select his clothing for the evening, slowly but surely coming back to himself, out of the shell he had retreated into after their forest incursion.

"Oh yes, Elrohir and Elladan can vouch for that," he snorted, as he followed Legolas to the wardrobe.

"This shirt is stunning, informal yet sensuous, of the highest quality weave, pale green will contrast with your new eyes, not to mention your new hair…"

"You sound like the royal tailor, Glorfindel", chuckled the prince, slipping the beautifully-made tunic, designed to be worn open at the chest, showing just a hint of what lay beneath, erotic indeed. Black velvet breeches and a matching sash completed the outfit.

Sitting down again at the dressing table, he sighed as he observed his 'new' hair. A whim of Yavanna herself, he knew. He analyzed the dual layers, one thick undercoat of straight, silky hair, and a mass of twisted locks that made up the topmost layer, both reaching down to the small of his back. He would have to find new ways of harnessing it, in battle it would be a disaster to leave it loose, he thought then that he could actually kill himself if he did so, and at rest, well, he had never had hair this long, he simply did not know how to dress it.

Glorfindel watched his lover's face as he peered at his hair. It was stunning to look at, a work of art, yet Legolas seemed irked with it. He, however, was mesmerized, for it was so exotic, he had never seen a style such as this, nor hair as long, except when he had gazed upon the face of Mandos.

Coming up behind his lover, Glorfindel began to try this, and that, until it occurred to him to gather up the entire upper layer and pin it high at the back of his head, now what to use to keep it there – a regular hair slide was nowhere near big enough to do the job, and so his eyes slipped to the collection of unlikely objects he had plucked from the mane earlier. Assessing the usefulness of each item, he finally reached for a length of vine and two carved twigs. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The silky cascade of straight hair was crowned with the thick twists, brought together in a high pony tail and secured by crossed sticks at the back – it looked beautiful, and he said as much.

"Yavanna has peerless taste, sweet king of mine, and you are so very alluring".

"'Tis not bad, I admit. You must play with it more, see what you can come up with."

"Oh I will, now, shall we eat?"

"Food?"he asked saucily.

"For now", smirked Glorfindel.

…

The dining room was alive with chatter, laughter and high spirits, with just a touch of anticipation, for rumor had attacked yet again, and the absence of the lords, albeit for less than a day, was the object of brutal conjecture. Hence, every single elf was at the dining table this evening, to see for themselves the truth or otherwise of the stories.

Elrond had arrived together with Erestor, followed shortly by Galadriel and Celeborn. They sat at the table as if the soul-moving events of the previous evening had never taken place, no one would guess that they had all been changed, touched by the light of the Valar, had given their pledge to the deeds that lay ahead.

"I wonder at his aspect now, after a bath and a good sleep", mused Erestor aloud, "if he arrives looking like he did last night, we will have a riot on our hands" he said, his intonation acute, belying the obvious understatement.

"Oh yes, that would be food for fertile dreaming this night, that is for sure", snorted Celeborn, remembering the thin skirt, the body paint, his hair, those eyes. He had been bonded to Galadriel for many years, but that did not make him immune to the sexual allure of others. Indeed in elven society, fealty was not a requirement in a bonded couple; life was too long to make that viable in most cases. Celeborn knew that should he wish it, he was free to take partners, as was she. But this elf was kin, albeit distant, yet it was enough to make sex an impossibility. Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor though, he envied them, for having one such as _he_, this portent of nature, _that_ must be an unforgettable experience.

Scant moments later, Legolas appeared with Glorfindel by his side, and the hubbub of conversation was promptly silenced.

It was the wood elves, they had been making the most noise yet now they were silent, as Galdithion and Henian rose and walked over to their prince, stopping before him and staring at his hair, his eyes – Galdithion's head cocked to the side, almost of its own accord as he struggled with the reality that was before his eyes – this was his friend, his commander, yet now he saw something else, for a power radiated from him, a light even brighter than his usual aura – it was the same when it happened for the first time, yet he had not changed physically then. Now, though - and then he knew. He knew that it had come to pass, this was not Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm, this was the Lord of the Forests.

His mouth dropped open slightly as comprehension dawned and he hung his head, bowing low and staying there. Legolas moved and touched his shoulder, signaling his friend to rise. As he captured Galdithion's eyes, Legolas smiled as if confirming his friend's inner machinations, nodding only slightly, for now was not the time to proclaim himself, not until he received his father's blessings.

It was Henian who stepped forward then, bowing equally now, rising, and then reached into his tunic, pulling out a small scroll which he handed to Legolas, a knowing smile on his contented face.

"Read it, my lord", was all he said.

Puzzled, Legolas carefully took the roll from his friend's hand and peeled it open, reading the first line of beautifully-written Tengwar.

'My son, my prince, and now, King of all the woodlands of Arda'

The letter was long, and now was not the time to read it, yet the first phrase had said what he needed to know. His father recognized his new identity.

He raised a stunned face to his friend, the question was in his eyes, for his own letter would not have reached his father yet, this had been written before events had come to pass. His father _had_ known, Galdithion had hinted at it already.

Now, it was Galdithion's turn to nod subtly as he smiled and walked back to the table with Henian and the rest of the woodland folk who stared on, watching the flowing movement of their prince's strangely long hair as he slowly walked to his place at the head of the table, wondering at the exchange that had just taken place.

Legolas sat with the lords at the head of the table, nodding at them all graciously as he sat beside Glorfindel and Elrond, rolling up the parchment and placing it to one side.

Conversation was slow to pick up again, but there was already a low murmur of voices as plates and dishes appeared from the kitchens, and the fine aromas of Gaerwyn's exquisite creations wafted into the air, wine was poured as the tension almost visibly relaxed and the elves began to enjoy themselves.

"My father knew," said Legolas as he took up his glass. He knew this would happen here and sent his blessings with Henian even as we travelled to Imladris.

"Then you are free to do this, he has recognized you as his equal?" prodded Glorfindel. He did not want to press the issue, he assumed that Legolas would have to read the entire letter before understanding what had happened.

"He has recognized me as king of the woodlands of Arda, as he puts it. Yet I must read the entire missive later", he finished, serving himself with the steaming game that had been placed before him.

"Well, that is the short of it, I suppose" mused Erestor. Yet one cannot avoid asking _how_ he knew…"

"Precisely", said Legolas.

"Your eyes have been green since yesterday" remarked the lady. And it was true, they had not changed at all, at least in the time she had been with him, since he emerged from the forest.

"Yes, perhaps they will stay that way", said Legolas with a calm voice. Truth be told he was a little perturbed at the physical changes that had been wrought on him. He had spent many centuries with blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair. Now he had green eyes, and his hair – well, it actually hurt his scalp it was so heavy.

His silence was not missed, as Elrond leaned forward a little, smiling kindly.

"You look lovely, Legolas".

"Thank you", he smiled. "I admit I look strange to my own eyes. Before, when my eyes would change to green, my sight suffered greatly, I could not see well at all, yet now I see just as well as I always have with blue eyes, and I can see my _green_ eyes. And then this, he signaled to the twisted upper locks, not knowing what to say. "It is so heavy, can you imagine trying to slice an orc's head off with this mass of… of… rope twisted around my head?" he was scowling now.

"Oh prince, I am sure we can find a solution to that. I can just see Llyn, or even fair Arwen fashioning some beautiful designs for you.

The lords chuckled as they imagined the ladies fussing over the long locks.

"Where is Mithrandir?" asked the prince then, for he had just realized that maia was not there.

"Mithrandir left this morning. He would not say where, but that he would return in a few days", explained Elrond. He was accustomed to the comings and goings of the wizard and placed no importance on it.

"We should talk of the next step", said Erestor. "You must tell us what you want us to do for the demonstration", he prompted, for as Elrond's chief advisor, the preparations would fall to him primarily, he knew.

"I would leave the planning of it to you, my friend. What I need is for the attendants to be outside, in the gardens after dinner, when the full moon is high. And speaking of attendants, we should invite anyone who is influential, Lord Cirdan, my own people, the list would be long…" he tapered off, thinking to himself now.

"How about this, my lord. We celebrate a formal banquet, followed by drinks and entertainment which would be set up in the gardens, and then the stage will be yours – does that sound acceptable?"

Legolas smiled. "Yes, very. Will you draw up a list of invitations? I will add those of the Woodland Realm of course.

"Then it is settled!" said Elrond, pleased with how easy it had been.

"How long will it take us to send invitations and expect their arrival?" asked Celeborn.

"Two weeks, perhaps".

"Then we shall start diplomatic talks tomorrow, there will be time enough before the day arrives. Erestor, you will need to shine, for I will need you for both events. Your negotiating and organizational skills are second to none, and you will need to delegate."

Erestor was already a little paler than usual, just the thought of all that responsibility was enough to weigh him down.

"If I may make a suggestion", interrupted Legolas. "Lady Llyniel has much experience in the organization of woodland festivities. Perhaps she could work with you, Lady Galadriel in the decoration. Your Lindir and our Amanthor will work together to create the entertainment. Gaerwyn could speak with my people to create the menu and ensure the logistics. That would leave the invitation and reception of guests to you, Lord Erestor."

"Well, that does sound a little better" he smiled, as the others chuckled back.

And so it was settled, Imladris and Greenwood would come together to create an evening of combined cultural diplomacy and entertainment, as a backdrop to introducing Legolas in his new capacity as Lord of the Forests, it would be the perfect finishing touch to the Spring Festival.

…..

Erestor had never been so busy, never in all his time in his capacity as chief councilor. Letters had been dictated, drawn up on the most exquisite parchment the Noldor could produce. Scribes had been set to the decoration of the missives, and then they had been sent by the fastest route they had - courier birds. And then he had drawn up the order of events for the diplomatic meetings between the Greenwood and Imladris. There were many proposals to discuss, not the least of the was the alliance between the two nations, which, although now seemed impossible, was still not a formal reality, on paper, they were still estranged. And then the commercial agreements, what to import and export, cultural exchanges between artists, warriors, healers, the list was monstrous.

And then there was the ceremony itself. He had drawn up a story board of sorts, registering every meaningful moment and event of the celebration, yet he still had no idea what exactly they would be preparing for. He knew the guest of honour would be Legolas, that Elrond would introduce him in his new office, but what of this demonstration? He had no idea what that would entail - yet he needed a good excuse to have any luck in counting on the presence of the likes of Cirdan or Gildor. And so his dexterous mind had him scribbling notes furiously, calling for elves he would delegate this or that to, searching through the historical tomes of Imladris' famous library.

He sat back for a moment and smoothed back his hair, blowing out a mighty puff of air and stretching his legs out from under the table.

He pondered then on the moment that fast approached. He was beginning to understand the magnitude of it, for this was akin to the crowning of Gil Galad, albeit only a handful of elves new about it. But Legolas had returned as king of the _forests,_ not of elves, yet the difference in his mind was scant. Gil Galad had a purpose – that of uniting Elvendom to fight against the darkness, and that he did. Yet Legolas' destiny was imposed by the Valar themselves, and by restoring the king of men to Gondor, he would, in effect, be achieving the same purpose, only Erestor hoped that this time it would be for good, the darkness never to return.

He startled then, as his friend Maeron knocked, then poked his head around the door, Llyniel was with him.

"Lord Erestor, have we come at an inopportune moment?"

"Nay, Maeron, come in, take my mind off this infernal paperwork if only for a few moments."

"Actually, my lord", began Llyn, "I came to offer my services. I am experienced in the preparation of woodland festivities, and as this is to be a cross-cultural effort, I though perhaps I could help you."

"Aye you can! Bless you sweet Llyn, and take a look at this" he said as he passed her the order of events he had drawn up.

As Llyn read through the document, Maeron sat, smiling empathically as he took in the piles of paper of varying sizes, the quills, the ink-stained fingers of their friend.

"You are busy", said Maeron rhetorically.

"Yes, and you can blame your prince for that".

Maeron chuckled, obviously aware of what was happening, although Erestor had not had it clear in his mind until then.

"You know then, what is to happen?" he asked the healer.

"I know, yes. Legolas came to us this morning. He did not say much, yet we know of what he speaks. We were there the first time she came to him, and I will tell you my friend, that that is a day I shall never forget, for to gaze upon the face of a Vala is most wonderous thing."

Erestor smiled then. He had only seen her from a distance, yet the emotions her presence had wrought in him would never be forgotten.

"I saw her form, from a distance", said the advisor, looking off into the distance, "she was tall and elegant, a flowing gown rippled around her, yet I could not see her face. But even so, I felt – I felt changed somehow", his brow furrowed as he looked up at Maeron once more, finding him smiling beautifully.

"Then you know of what I speak; it accompanies you for the rest of your long days. It comforts you, gives meaning to your life, makes you a better elf."

Erestor stared back at his new-found friend, his eyes alight as he tried to fathom it, for Maeron had also been a first-hand witness to her coming, he too had been changed.

…..

The day was warm as Legolas walked in the gardens with Henian and Galdithion. He had missed their company during his last few days in the valley, missed the friendship he had always enjoyed with them, for they were the few elves in whose company he could relax and be himself, without the protocol of high office.

His appearance had been shock to all that had seen him. His people, his new-found friends – Melven, Gaerwyn, Brathiniel, Lindir, he had left them stupefied, even though he had washed the paint from his body and removed the adornments from his hair – with the help of Glorfindel – yet still he had been changed.

"Tell me, Legolas. Tell us, what… what does this mean for you and your future in the Greenwood? Must you leave?" asked Henian, for he had been thrown by the incredible events of the last few hours. Legolas had come to his people and explained what had come to pass. They had rejoiced, for sure, but then calm reasoning had brought to the fore what this really meant, for their prince, and for their nation, for they could not fathom their country without him, so loved and respected he was.

"Ai Henian", he smiled, although it was not a smile of happiness, but of sympathy. "I do not know what to say, for I do not know myself. I hold to hope, and that the transition I must make will be gradual. I have faith that I will continue to guard our forests, aid my father and live under the trees of the Greenwood for a little longer. But a time will come when I must travel abroad and into my destiny, yet I hope that will be many years into the future, that I can enjoy the company of my very dear friends, your company, for I know not what I would do without your unconditional love".

He held the watery gazes of his two friends, smiling genuinely now. For their love emanated from them like a beacon, he could feel it seeping into his pores, suffusing him with well-being and the true desire to serve, for he was as humbled by their devotion as they were of his regard.

….

Glorfindel had spent the morning restlessly pacing his study, for he knew not how to proceed in this. It seemed to him that events were escaping him, that he had no control over the what, when, or how. All he knew is that he had needed to give his lover time to assimilate his new status, to understand the onus of his destiny. He also knew there was nothing to be gained in pacing the room, and so he walked out into the gardens in the hope of finding his love there.

Sure enough, after ten minutes of wandering through the vegetation, he came across three sylvan elves, sitting cross-legged upon the grass, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled placidly as he approached them, sitting himself down beside Legolas, facing the prince's captain and lieutenant.

Henian and Galdithion rose then, and turned to their prince.

"We will see you at the afternoon meal?" asked Galdithion.

"Aye, I will be there – I should train later, if you will join me?"

They nodded then, and left their friend in the company of Glorfindel, walking towards their warrior's quarters.

Legolas leaned over to Glorfindel then, and kissed him fervently on the lips, watching for his reaction.

"I have missed you Glorfindel", said Legolas simply.

As soon as he had uttered the words, he moved into the warrior's magnificent body and kissed his neck.

Smiling down at the snuggling prince, he squeezed him tight.

"Will you not whisk me away and have your way with me? asked the prince sweetly."

"No whisking away, I would have you up against that wall now, fast and hard."

Legolas felt his body react acutely to Glorfindel's words. He looked up and saw the wild expression on his lover's face. He was serious, the realization made his blood pump even harder as he moaned his approval into the warrior's neck.

"Do it then, have me. Take your pleasure, lord of Gondolin."

….

After they had made themselves minimally presentable, they moved into each other's arms. Legolas felt a wave of love wash over him then, and the need to put words to the sensation took over.

"That was incredible, Glorfindel. _You_ are incredible, and I love you dearly." Tears had sprang to his eyes as he spoke the words.

Glorfindel felt empowered then, strengthened by Legolas' words, infused with a noble purpose and gifted with such a special lover. He felt perhaps that the Valar were rewarding him for his sacrifice and then years of faithful service, and he felt like weeping himself – he could have thrown out his arms and prayed to them for the kindness they had bestowed upon him; instead, he grabbed the prince and sprinted out of the shady corner and onto the green grass, whirled his lover round in circles as he laughed and shouted his joy to the heavens.

A distance away, standing on the ample balcony of Elrond's library, two lords and a lady watched as the two elves rejoiced and frolicked in the gardens below, each with a placid smile upon their lips, and a turmoil of thoughts in their minds.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE: Politics

Erestor was exhausted. He had truly had enough. In all his long years as an administrator, he had never found himself in such a situation. His mind was reeling out of control, his hand hurt from so much writing, his eyes blurred from too much reading – he had to stop.

The last week had been a frantic. He had almost literally split himself in two. His mornings had been taken up with meetings with the Lorien and Greenwood diplomats, surprisingly with Llyniel at the fore. He had not known on that night of Carnal Delight, that he was sharing himself with the Greenwood's chief diplomat, in the absence of the King of Greenwood's head advisor, who had stayed with his king. She had proved a worthy opponent, and drove a hard bargain. He respected her tenacity, her acumen and rhetoric, her capacity to synthesize and garner sympathy. She was good - very good, and had led her people to a more than advantageous pact on military alliance. They had then discussed all manner of issues, such as warrior exchanges, healer apprenticeships, taxation, import and export of goods, even a yearly international fair that would be hosted alternately by Imladris, Lorien and Greenwood. Many pacts and agreements had been drawn up, with but a few loose ends that would be discussed after the imminent ceremony.

Rubbing his forehead, he despaired at what was yet to come.

And thus Glorfindel found him sitting behind his overloaded table, smiling as he searched his friend's eyes.

"Ai Glorfindel, tell me you have come to kidnap me!"

But before he could answer, a knock at the door revealed one of Erestor's scribes carrying four rolled up parchments which had been delivered but a few moments before.

Taking them, he unraveled the first, dismissing his harried scribe.

"Lorien are bringing Arwen," he mumbled, "she had already left when this message was sent of course. That means she will be here within a few days."

"What was that", asked Glorfindel, unsure of whether Erestor meant to speak to him or not.

"Arwen, she's on her way", he said, without lifting his eyes from the scrolls.

"That is good", said Glorfindel, honestly pleased she would be with her family for the event. Although he did not know what Legolas would do to prove his status, he did remember that it was to be a gift to the family.

Unraveling the second, Erestor resumed his mumbling – this one was from Cirdan, who would send his chief advisor, arguing that he could not leave his realm at this point, although Erestor deduced the real reason was because he gave scant credence to the proclamation – Legolas was going to have his hands full if he was to convince him, he knew. The third scroll was from Gildor, who would be arriving with a band of his wandering elves – he had happened to be but a few days ride away, and given their proximity, he had decided to accept the invitation – again, Erestor read between the lines – here was another skeptic. It was impossible to know when the messages had been sent, but most had been delivered by elves, which meant that the guests would not be far behind.

The last scroll Erestor recognized, for it was written on the same, strangely-coloured paper that had confirmed the Crown Prince of the Greenwood's attendance at the Spring Festival - this one was from the Greenwood, he knew.

It was short, saying only that Lord Aradan, the king's head advisor would be attending, together with the royal artist, and Mentathiel…

"I assume that this Aradan will bring further tidings from the king to his son", said Glorfindel.

"Aye, it was obvious that Thranduil himself would not come. In Legolas' absence, he will be commanding the Greenwood's forces. Now Glorfindel, you must excuse me, for I should take this information to Elrond".

"One more thing, Erestor. I think perhaps that Elrond should speak to the people, for they are disconcerted at the events, and have no information other than the chit-chat going on around them, yet our guests will be arriving in but a few days time."

"I will discuss it with him, of course. I will see you later, then", and with that he was out of the door in a swirl of dark cloth, not waiting for an answer.

Glorfindel was disappointed that he had not been able to spend more time with his friend, for he honestly did not know what to do with himself, everyone was busy, each with their own duty, yet Glorfindel had nothing to do but sit and wait, It had been a scant several days, and he was already losing his cool. At least he would be doing something constructive once the dignitaries began to arrive, for he would be escorting them into the valley and seeing to their security – it would be good to see Gildor again, it had been a long time.

….

Lunch brought everyone back together, and conversation was ripe. Erestor was deep in discussion with Llyn and Galadriel, while Amanthor and Lindir discussed their parchments of music as they ate, pointing to this or that note, scribbling or crossing out a phrase, ooing and aring at the resulting music only they could hear.

"…in two days hence, we have Arwen. She is accompanied by Rumil's unit, due around lunch time. For the following morning, the party from Mithlond arrives with a company of civilians and a unit of warriors, and Gildor and his band around the same time. And then from dusk onwards, we expect the Greenwood's envoys. Amongst them are Aradan, the chief advisor, the royal artist, and Mentathiel, the Avarin Spirit Singer…"

"The what?" asked Elrond, tuning in to the conversation off to his left, furrowing his brow as he looked to Erestor for an explanation.

Erestor stared back, "I have no idea what it is", turning then to Lindir, who simply shook his head, for he was stumped at the question. However, Amanthor would know, surely…

_This_ elf was smiling wickedly at the lords, a glint in his eye and a hint of awe in his expression. "You will soon find out", he said, sharing a look of complicity with the prince, who simply smiled enigmatically.

…

That evening, a band went out across the entire valley. It had been posted on every available door, wall, commercial building, and read allowed in every square and corner. Imladris was to host a banquet in honor of a newly-appointed lord, the Lord of the Forests, Legolas. This was no surprise to the sylvans of the Greenwood, but those of Lorien and the Noldor were surprised, and somewhat skeptical, truth be told, for a sylvan had been named lord of the forests, a _king_ some had deduced, and old prejudices died hard, as Melven had once discovered.

Yet Legolas had made many friends during his short visit to the valley, many of them honored and respected him as a warrior and as the savior of their young ones. There would be no significant objections from Imladris, this Elrond knew, yet explaining to the visiting dignitaries was going to be challenging.

As he sat at his overloaded desk, Elrond wondered what Legolas could possibly do to cast away all doubt regarding his legitimacy. The questions were, of course, _who_ had decided to name _this _elf lord of the forests? And then why was a king, which in effect he would be, even necessary anyway? All the elven realms were allied, except the Greenwood up until a scant few days ago – this had been precisely one of the main reasons for holding the Spring Festival in the first place. There was harmony amongst them, and so again, why a king?

He knew he could not simply say that Yavanna had proclaimed it so, that it was the will of the Valar. No, they would need to show the people in no uncertain terms that this was, indeed the case, and that however unlikely, it was _true._

Unfortunately, Elrond knew that nothing short of a miracle could ever achieve that purpose, and so he picked up his quill once more, and resumed his frantic scribbling, he would trust the Valar, and Legolas, to not leave him looking like an amateur.

…..

They had been working together for days now, and the resulting music was the most amazing melting pot of instrument and voice, of cultured, trained singing, to raw, tribal chanting, multiple descants that would lift the soul – it was an amazing set of pieces, yet they were but half way through.

Amanthor arrived then, ready to start the day with more compositions and practice sessions with the musicians and singers, yet this day, he had a bomb shell to drop, one he knew Lindir would find hard to assimilate.

"Lindir, you remember the reference to the Avarin Spirit Singer?"

"Yes, you would not answer, you simply left us with the intrigue".

"And you have no idea of what I speak?" insisted Amanthor.

"Not the slightest idea, Amanthor, yet you have me puzzled."

Sighing, Amanthor began the tale. He told Lindir of the avari, of their strange, tribal ways, similar to those of the sylvans but much less refined. Their connection to nature was superior to that of the sylvans, for the avari lived forever in the forests, rejecting the right to travel to Valinor. They revered their woods and would kill any who would harm them. He continued by explaining that within this culture, the figure of the Spirit Singer was born. A male or female that was particularly sensitive to the living world around them and of those they touched. They could fathom the essence of things long past, deduce the feelings of others, understand the probability of future events. They were not clairvoyants, and they did not have the gift of foresight, they simply picked up on minute clues, vibrations, energies, heard the voice of growing things, and put them into perspective, the perspective of music.

As he had suspected, Lindir was staring at him as though he had gone mad. He truly was torn between believing it and scorning his friend for fooling him, for the tale had been very good.

"I do not trick you, Lindir. 'Tis the truth. Now, the Greenwood has Mentathiel, an avarin Spirit Singer - she will be here with our party in two maybe three days time."

"What? You're serious! This is true?"

"Absolutely. She does not acquiesce to performing lightly, Lindir, 'tis a great honor that she accepted this offer. She said that she had never sung before a king appointed by the Valar, and that _that _was a challenge she did not want to forsake."

"What, I mean how, does she improvise the words? How are we to compose the music if we know not the tempo or the meaning. I mean if she sings of love, we cannot compose a merry jig!"

"Wait, wait, Lindir! Listen, I have worked with her before and there is nothing easier. It is a simple matter of starting a beat and a string base line. From there, she will mark the tempo, our job is to watch her closely, and increase or decrease the tempo, add or subtract instruments, and so on – you have to let your emotions travel with those she evokes, and then command your musicians."

"You make it sound so easy!"

"Well, I will start and you can continue, if you feel up to it".

And so their banter continued, between coming and going musicians, frantic scribbling, underlining, erasing and rewriting notes on parchments, and the occasional kiss to the lips.

….

Some days later, a beautiful day dawned, and the valley dwellers turned out in their second best clothing, saving their favorite outfits for the imminent ceremony that would make history and trigger the most extraordinary events that Middle Earth would ever see, although they did not know that yet.

The house was full, the barracks were full, there were tarpaulins hanging between trees in the surrounding gardens, under which makeshift housing had been arranged. Accommodation was so scarce that they had had to prioritize, placing the civilians inside, and military personnel outside. This also worked well for the security of the event, which Glorfindel was overseeing.

For reasons no one could fathom, the Greenwood had formally requested the ceremony take place along the back of the house, the area in which Celebrian's gardens lay. He had been perplexed that they should wish to include this skeleton garden in such an event, yet the thought did not displease him, for it would almost be as though _she_ would be present, in some way.

And so, the entire area had been decked most beautifully. There was a massive wooden stage to one side, where chairs and music stands had been placed. The area surrounding this massive structure was packed with long tables, and other smaller ones scattered around the place, beside flower beds, under trees, even in the trees themselves, which Elrond was sure had been done by the sylvans of the Greenwood and Lorien.

Other lower tables appeared under the canopy, where cushions of varying shapes and sizes had been placed, obviously meant to be used after the ceremony, each with its own small lantern – the effect would be staggeringly beautiful after dark.

Elrond continued to stroll through the gardens until he arrived at the place where his bonded mate would while away her days, conversing with friends, playing with the children, or simply sitting in the sun and contemplating on life. She had cared for the gardens personally. Every day she would delegate this or that to be done, yet her roses were hers alone to touch. Now, they did not bloom, and the branches were finally turning brown, a sure sign that they were near death, just as their mistress had been when she had left them. He sighed as he struggled to reign in his treacherous emotions.

Turning, he walked into the fertile area once more, taking in yet more details of the decorations, what they had done here was truly unique.

He spotted Galadriel with Mithrandir and…

"Aiwendil?"

"Well, Lord Elrond, it has been many years, yet you look well, my friend" said the strange, brown-clad wizard.

Elrond smiled as he dipped his head towards the maia.

Galadriel turned to her son-in-law, a pleased smile on her face and Elrond thought then that she looked more carefree than he had ever seen her.

"Elrond, enjoy it while you can, for in no time all this area will be teeming with decorators and musicians. What do you think?" she asked.

"You are happy today", he stated, trying to emerge from his melancholy state.

"Indeed she is, Elrond", said Mithrandir, "and it is contagious. History is about to play out before our very eyes, my friend, and it is a time to rejoice, while we can."

Elrond smiled then. They were right, but it was times like these when his loss came to the fore, he would always remember her more when there was a celebration to be had.

"All is almost done", said Elrond, "Glorfindel has informed me that all our guests are now in residence, tomorrow is the big day".

"Indeed, after sunset", added Galadriel.

"I must call a meeting with the rulers. They must be briefed fully. Will you join me Mithrandir, Aiwendil?"

"Of course."

"It will not be easy, my friends, Gildor will be hard enough, but ….. is a hard nut to crack I tell you."

"The very worst thing that could happen", said Mithrandir, "is that they refuse to believe it without seeing it, and that is the purpose of the ceremony, is it not?"

"Yes, you are right of course, yet I cannot help but think what on all Arda Legolas can do to show the truth of it…"

Mithrandir smiled then, turning to Aiwendil, who was also smiling. They did not know what exactly the new lord would do, but Aiwendil had told his colleague what his 'forest friends' had told him, that it would be nothing short of spectacular, and that they had been invited to a rose garden…

….

The meeting had been received with much relief and trepidation, for the mystery surrounding their invitations to the event was palpable, the lack of information almost complete. Had Elrond procrastinated any longer, he would have had more than a few complaints to deal with.

A round table had been prepared in the library, and guards had been placed at doors and windows, for what was about to be revealed was to be kept a secret until tomorrow, there was no telling how the people would react to a spiritual event of his caliber.

The meeting was formal, each representative showing his or her status as their culture dictated, taking their indicated seats, yet there were no scribes – this was a closed-door meeting, nothing would be written.

Elrond arrived then, together with Galadriel and the two maias. Legolas, however, was not present. The lord had decided it would be better to create a situation in which the lords could speak freely. And so Lorien was represented by Galadriel, Mithlond by Aerion, the wandering elves by Gildor, Greenwood by Aradan, Imladris by Elrond himself, and the Valar, by the two maias – the table was complete and so Elrond began.

"My lords, I have requested your presence today in order to brief you on the extraordinary events of the last few weeks, during the Spring Festival that is still being celebrated by this nation, Greenwood and Lorien.

I shall get straight to the point, and then you may ask your questions, for I know you will have many.

And so Elrond began, starting with the events in the Greenwood to their 'forest vigil' which had culminated with the appearance of Yavanna herself. As he told the story, he struggled to find the words that would make it believable for those who listened, but as he listened to himself, he realized that however selective he was with his lexis, it still sounded outlandish.

There was a prolonged silence as Elrond finished his briefing. No one moved, no one spoke, they simply stared at Elrond, expecting him to burst into laughter and confess it was all a grand hoax. Yet he said nothing, and they stared on.

"Yavanna has crowned this Legolas in private, _he_ says it is so, and you all just _believe_ it? asked Gildor, a look of total confusion upon his strong, weathered face. Of course it really wasn't a question, more an accusation of having incurred in an act of childish faith.

Aradan bristled at the apparent lack of respect this exile was showing for his prince.

"This Legolas is Prince Legolas Thranduilion". Yes he states this, but I have seen and heard Yavanna say as much. You doubt me and that is your right, but you also doubt Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and all those who were witness to her coming in the forests of Imladris?"

"I do not doubt that you saw something, yet I doubt your interpretations, and your lack of rigor in ascertaining the truth worries me greatly".

"You would believe it if you saw it?" enquired Galadriel.

"Yes"

"That is what _we_ do. We have seen it, and although you speak of false interpretation, there is only one way to understand the lady's message. When you introduce the concept of multiple interpretations you assume, falsely, that there is more than one. I understand you not, Gildor Inglorion", said Galadriel calmly.

Aerion spoke for the first time then.

"And what exactly is tomorrow's ceremony for then. If he has already been crowned, what is to happen tomorrow, and why are we here? You could simply have called a meeting, rather than celebrating a party in honor of something that is, frankly, very hard to accept."

"It is precisely because of what you and Lord Gildor believe, that tomorrow's ceremony is a necessity. Both Yavanna and Legolas know that there must be a demonstration of sorts, in order to convince you that what we say, what we claim, is indeed the truth", explained Elrond as matter-of-factly as he could, but Gildor's sarcasm and skepticism was beginning to wear him down.

"A demonstration?" interrupted Gildor. "What exactly is he going to do? Show us his crown? Turn someone into a frog…"

"That is enough!" thundered Aradan as he stood abruptly, his formal robes swirling around his agitated body.

Mithrandir approached him from behind, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. It took the rigidity out of the enflamed advisor, but he did not sit down.

"Gildor, your years in the wild have made you somewhat disrespectful." He began. That you do not believe is your right, that you doubt the word of the lords here present is, however, – disappointing. Save your words until after the ceremony tomorrow. Let us see if your mindset is the same – what say you?" He urged, including Aerion with a quick glance.

Gildor looked a little ashamed, but his pride would not allow him to apologize.

"Alright, Mithrandir. I will wait until afterwards, and then we should meet again, I can agree to this much."

"Aerion?"

"Alright, I too agree."

"So we should prepare for the proclamation of a king at tomorrow's ceremony?" asked Gildor, somewhat sarcastically.

"Yes", was all Galadriel said, her icy blue eyes trained on him, watching as he broke eye contact, bowed slightly, turned on his heel and left the room.

Aerion sighed, rising from his chair and left in the wake of Gildor.

…..

Legolas sat out in the afternoon sun, cross-legged upon the soft grass, listening to the sounds of the garden and the forests beyond. It had been difficult to find himself a quiet spot, but he had eventually come across this little clearing. However he knew it would not be long before someone chanced upon the tranquil glade.

And so it was that Elrohir, Elladan and Haldir, in the presence of Arwen, strolled into the clearing, spotting Legolas in the centre.

"Ah, Prince Legolas, may we join you?" asked Elrohir most gallantly.

Tilting his head up to Elrohir, shielding his eyes from the brilliant sun, he smiled as they all sat with him.

"May I introduce our sister Arwen Undomiel, recently arrived from Lorien", said Elladan.

Haldir watched as both elves stared wide-eyed at each other. They had never met, but their first reactions were nothing short of spectacular. They could not talk, they simply gazed on as their friends observed, smirking at the scene playing out before them, for the two single most beautiful elves were before each other.

Haldir cleared his throat and began to speak, but even then, the connection was not broken.

"I see our Lady Undomiel is a great success with our forest lord", sniggered Haldir.

"And he with her", smirked Elrohir.

"My queen", whispered Legolas

"My king", answered Arwen.

Elladan, Elrohir and Haldir were left open-mouthed, for the moment had been magical, something meaningful had passed between them.

…..

True to Galadriel's words, the entire land to the rear of the house was crawling with male and female elves, decorating everything that protruded from the ground. Tables, chairs, the very trees, fountains, benches, stones – everything was being wound in leaves and flowers, both fresh and expertly dried, beads and baubles, coloured strips of gauzy cloth and lanterns, hundreds of them, hanging from the boughs of even the most secluded of corners.

Erestor observed it all from the window of his office, himself affected by the contagious sense of joy that had taken over from the tense apprehension of the previous days.

Most of his work was done, the dignitaries had arrived and been briefed by Elrond with varying degrees of success, at least they had not up and left the meeting, and the valley. However, they were not told of the prince's ultimate destiny of restoring the king of Gondor – that was an issue they would have to address with the topmost diplomacy, and hopefully, that would be far off into the future.

Erestor's musings were interrupted, as Elrond entered the room in the company of Aradan, the King of Greenwood's chief advisor.

Erestor had met him briefly last night, and had exchanged pleasantries, but nothing more had been discussed. He sensed that Elrond wanted Aradan to speak privately and at ease, away from the milling lords and ladies just on the other side of the door.

Sitting together, Elrond poured a glass of crisp white wine for them, and reclined, setting the scene for the advisor to say what he must.

Taking a sip from his glass, he looked at Elrond meaningfully.

"How goes the Spring Festival my Lord?" he asked, an intensity about him that told Elrond he asked for more than the results of negotiations.

"Your prince has performed his duties admirably, Aradan. We are still in the process of negotiations, but much has already been achieved, and relations are more than satisfactory. Your people have been well received, and are respected by all. But this you already knew", added Elrond astutely.

"Yes, of course. I know my prince well, Lord Elrond, I expected nothing less of him. I can see he has caused a magnificent impression on the lords of Imladris…"

"Is that a question, Lord Aradan?"

"No, but an invitation to speak, should you wish to, for I do not judge you", he said, smiling slightly to take away the edge to his words.

"You are protective of him, yet he hardly needs it", said Elrond then, not wishing to disclose anything until he understood the elf's intentions.

"Indeed not, yet I have known him since his conception. I have cared for him as an uncle would, I have comforted him in his moments of failure, supported him when he lost that which he loved most, I have always been there for him, and I always will be. To me the boy is a son, the son I lost in the last alliance." He held Elrond's eyes, willing him to see the emotion behind his words, understand the reason for his questions. It was not impertinence but familiar concern, love and respect.

"I understand, and I will answer." He smiled before continuing, glad to see it was reciprocated. "It started at the opening ceremony, I – we invited Prince Legolas for a drink and, things developed from there…"

"You engaged in Carnal Delight?" asked Aradan, his eyebrows brushing his hairline.

Elrond turned to him once more, willing him to censor him as he answered.

"We did".

"We?"

"Yes. Lord Glorfindel, Lord Erestor, Lady Llyniel and myself."

"Oh, wonderful".

Elrond had to stop and look again at Aradan as he processed the answer he definitely was not expecting.

"Wonderful?"

"Indeed. Luring the foremost lords of the realm to ones bed for Carnal Delight is indeed a great feat, my lord. 'Tis good politics indeed."

Erestor covered his open mouth with his hand, as Elrond stared wide-eyed at the advisor, and then he suddenly and most scandalously erupted into peels and guffaws of laughter that would not stop, driving him to place a hand over his belly, while Erestor chuckled madly, trying very hard not to lose his composure. Thus Legolas and Glorfindel found them, although drawn especially to the lord of the valley, who had been rendered helpless by the spasms of hilarity that would not cease, bringing a wide smile to those that looked on.

Legolas moved over to Aradan and squeezed his shoulder.

"You have not been telling embarrassing stories, I trust?"

"Nay, your lord laughs at my political ideas," he said, looking over at the legendary warrior, whom he had never met until he had ridden into the valley. He was beautiful and strong, he could see why his prince would be attracted to him.

"Lord Glorfindel" he acknowledged, dipping his head.

"Lord Aradan" replied Glorfindel, his voice deep and strong.

Elrond had regained control over his body once more, as he handed his visitors a glass of wine, albeit rather shakily.

"You know, Lord Elrond, I understand your mirth, yet I mean what I say, 'tis a great honor, mutually, I am sure you all gained great pleasure from the moment, my daughter included."

Elrond had just taken a swig of his wine, and promptly sprayed his visitors with it when he realized that this, _this_ was Llyniel's father.

And Aradan laughed, long and hard, more than he had done for a long long time, for she was indeed his beloved daughter, Llyniel Aradaniel, and how proud he was of her.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX: The Tense Wait

Author's note: this chapter has been censored. The complete version can be read at lotrfanfictiondotcom.

Mentathiel was found in the company of Amanthor and Lindir, in the gardens where everything would take place. They seemed deep in conversation, but what he had to say could not wait, he knew she would want to know.

"Mentathiel – 'tis good to see you my lady", he said as he approached the tall, strangely pale female whose face was devoid of all emotion, a blank parchment she had always seemed to him.

She bowed reverently to her prince, waiting for him to say what he must.

However, it was Amanthor who spoke first.

"My lord, have you come to hear our rehearsals?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Nay Amanthor, alas I have not the time, I wish only to speak with you all regarding the ceremony that will take place.

"Of course, my lord, shall we sit?" he asked although he was already moving towards a tree in a shady spot of the beautiful garden.

Once all four were seated, Legolas began.

"I will tell you something now that you must not disclose to anyone, not even your musicians. Do I have your oaths?" he asked, watching them all carefully.

All nodded mutely, and so the prince continued.

The 'demonstration', as it has come to be known, will take place before Lord Elrond's proclamation. All anyone knows is that it will take the form of a gift.

"What gift?" asked Lindir hesitantly, his eyes wide with trepidation, for something important were being disclosed, he knew.

"My gift is to the Peredhel family – I will restore Lady Celebrian's garden".

Lindir was suddenly furious. Celebrian had been his most intimate of friends, how he had suffered in the face of her tragedy. He would take no arrogance from anyone, not even this prince.

"But you cannot, it is dead!" blurted Lindir, hurt that Legolas would presume such a thing.

"Peace Lindir, listen to me. I do not jest nor take your lady's name in vain. It is necessary for me to show my ability and hence justify my new status in the eyes of all, for there are those who doubt. What better way than to show them a creation event, and in the process, bring back that which will bring happiness and hope to your lord, indeed to _you_ too?"

Lindir was struck dumb; he was torn between disbelief and hysteria.

"Lindir, if my lord says he can bring back a garden from the dead, it is so – neither I nor Amanthor doubt his word, and neither should you." warned Mentathiel, her voice deep and calm, yet full of colourful intonation that was not reflected on her stony face.

Legolas smiled at her, but continued.

"I would ask a favor of you. After it is done, I would be honored if you would compose a spirit song for the lord and his family. Perhaps, Mentathiel, you could pick up on the lady herself, for her presence in the garden is strong, I have felt it myself. I envisage something heart-felt yet inspiring, something that will lift the spirits – what think you?" he asked the spirit singer.

"You place a challenge before me my lord. The gift will be beautiful and memorable, for I know the sad story of the lady of Imladris, a sylvan amongst the Noldor. The words will come to me when the time is right, yet Amanthor and Lindir must compose a basic tune for it, this song cannot be improvised completely. Are you up for the challenge?" she asked the two musicians, eyes twinkling with determination and no small amount of arrogance.

"We are" they both said, looking at one another then, and chuckling, both with mirth and nervousness, for they had just agreed to the impossible – or was it? For here they were, preparing music for an event that would be remembered long into the future. It set his skin tingling when he thought of what exactly he and his friend were composing. This was nothing short of a suite for a crowning, not to mention a _creation _event, there was no higher honor for a musician, no greater challenge, yet he knew, he felt it in his bones that this music was the culmination of his professional career, for the music – the beauty he was creating together with Amanthor, was simple perfection.

…

Everything had fallen into place. The guests had arrived, preparations had been made, provisions had been received, the final touches to the entertainment were being made, and expectation was high, for tomorrow would be the demonstration, as it had come to be known.

Legolas sat out in the public gardens, admiring the shimmering, changing colours of dusk, out of sight of the majority of those taking a lazy afternoon stroll, for Imladris was filled to the brim, there were elves everywhere, of all classes and origins, professions and appearances.

Yet Aradan knew his prince well, as did his life-long friends – they knew where to look, and sure enough, there he was.

"Prince Legolas, may we join you?"

"Of course" he said genuinely, for he could speak freely with these elves, be at ease around them.

"How was the briefing Aradan?" asked the prince, smiling as he watching the advisor carefully.

"It was - predictable, I believe. Neither Aerion nor Gildor believed what we told them, and I admit there were a few rather – tense – moments, Gildor is especially skeptical, and rather brutish in his exposition. Too many days in the wild, I believe Mithrandir said. Yet we were able to wrench from both the promise to watch, and then judge. They will believe it when they see it, or so they say."

Contrary to what his friends had expected. Legolas simply smiled placidly as he looked away into the wild.

"You are not concerned?" asked Henian. "You are not worried that we may provoke a diplomatic incident with this?" he continued. "Legolas, I do not know what it will take to convince them, but I suspect whatever you do will simply not be enough for those two."

Aradan would not gainsay what the captain had just said, for he had reflected almost exactly what he himself was thinking, this was a potentially explosive situation, one that could undo all the work that had gone into this festival so far.

"Henian and Galdithion, Aradan, Llyn, my dear friends", he began, a fond gaze accompanying his words, if it was enough to convince Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Lord Glorfindel, and Lord Erestor, it will be enough for them. All I can tell you is that my lady has enhanced by abilities, has granted me access to that which before was, for me, unthinkable. It will be enough, cease your fretting." He finished in mock scorn.

Aradan heard his prince, a wave of pride washing over him as he marveled at the strong leader he had become.

"The entire Greenwood will be with you tomorrow, my prince. The King is holding a grand celebration after dusk, in honor of the new Lord of the Forests. They wish to honor you, my prince, and avidly await your return home, that they may kiss you, and wish you joy, thank you for your life of service and sacrifice they will know you have pledged."

He smiled joyously then, as a wave of nostalgia rolled over him, almost feeling the love of his people, his father.

"Thank you, Aradan. Your words bring me joy, as does your company."

Nodding as he beamed at his lord, Aradan rose and left the clearing, his task fulfilled, the three friends close behind him, leaving Legolas to the solitude he so obviously desired.

…..

Dusk turned to evening, and Legolas decided it was time to return to the house and dine publically for the last time as Prince Legolas. It would be his first dinner in the presence of the visiting dignitaries and he knew he would be under close scrutiny. Legolas had his own preparations to make before tomorrow – he felt the need to meditate, to attune himself accordingly, calm his nerves, for he knew not what he himself would be capable of tomorrow. He knew only what he wanted to achieve, and had the understanding that he would be able to perform it – yet he had never done anything remotely like this, and the truth was, he was scared, for the first time in many long years, he was simply frightened – of himself.

Approaching the house, he came across various small groups of elves who would stop and stare openly at him as he passed them. He smiled graciously as he had been taught to do, and continued his path into the house, up the stairs and into his quarters. Not a minute had passed before Glorfindel tapped on the door and entered.

Legolas swiveled on his heel, finding himself face to face with the elf he most yearned to see. Moving as close as he could get, he placed a hand behind the blond locks and pulled Glorfindel's face to his, kissing him passionately, drawing back and smiling joyously.

"Your face, I love your face, lord of Gondolin".

The warrior beamed at his prince, soon to be lord, king no less. Every day that passed, his heart ached more, his addiction to this elf grew, his need to envelope himself in his scent, his strong, hard body, every day he needed more, suffered more, rejoiced more.

"Are you dining with the lions tonight?" He asked mischievously.

"Oh aye, let us go together, and whatever happens", and here he turned serious, "stay calm my love, do not be angry on my behalf, do not rise to the bait, if it is tended".

"I will not, but only because you ask it of me".

Legolas simply smiled as he began to change for dinner, choosing a simple but elegant outfit of green and blue, his hair however… he sat at the dresser once more, sighing yet again as he looked up to Glorfindel standing behind him, who was smirking down at him, reading his thoughts yet again.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a long box which he opened and placed in front of Legolas, stepping back to wait for his reaction.

Puzzled, the prince peered into the open container on the dresser in front of him, leaning in close to see what it was that Glorfindel had gifted him, for it was surely that.

The first thing that drew his attention were the various pieces that made up the ensemble. Two long, beautifully carved leaves of gold sat to either side of a single golden flower, inset with miniscule emeralds, sapphire and amethyst. To either side of this central piece, where two longer, golden pieces, the precious metal having been carved and twisted so that they truly were in the semblance of tree roots. Legolas' eyes shined, for it was an exquisite piece, one that he knew his father would covet. He looked up to Glorfindel's reflection in the mirror, willing him to dress his hair with this token of his love.

Moving slowly to where his love sat patiently, he picked up the central piece, and used it to clip back the locks of twisted hair. He lifted a large section of straight hair from the side and swirled it back and over the twists, securing it with one of the golden roots, and then repeating the movement with the other side.

Stepping back, he admired his work of art from afar, watching as Legolas admired himself from the front, then the sides. He turned to Glorfindel then, taking up a smaller hand mirror to see the effect from the back. What he saw was stunning, he had never seen a hair decoration such as this, he knew that Glorfindel had engineered it, had designed it especially for him, and he was so very touched.

Standing, me moved over to the legendary warrior, and placed a sole, tender kiss to his lips.

"It is so very beautiful, you are a skilled artist."

"How can I not be, in love with one such as you?"

…

The two newcomers and their party were already seated, Gildor and Aerion occupying places of honour at the high table, together with the noldorin and sylvan lords.

Gildor had managed to calm himself, partly thanks to a private conversation with Aerion, who had urged him to calm his volatile temper, assuring him that he understood, and indeed felt likewise, but at the same time urging him to use his intelligence. There was nothing to be lost by giving this sylvan prince a chance, yet everything to lose should they not, and then be proved wrong. Gildor had seen the merit of Aerion's discourse and had conceded the point.

And so they sat, waiting for the prince to appear with no small amount of curiosity.

A scraping of chairs drew everyone's attention, as the Greenwood elves stood and bowed low, Aradan and Llyn at the high table, mirroring their compatriots. Elrond realized that Legolas' people were anticipating tomorrow's events; they were already treating their prince as a king.

The high lords, however, remained seated, dipping their heads in deference as Legolas, accompanied by Glorfindel, accommodated themselves.

It was Glorfindel who took it upon himself to introduce the prince.

"Prince Legolas Thranduilion, may I introduce Lord Gildor Inglorion, leader of the wandering elves of Arda".

Both inspected each other visually, Legolas perceiving a slight hint of disdain in this elf's regard, as Gildor himself saw intelligence, power and the most shockingly beauteous visage he had ever regarded. He tried so very hard to cover his emotions, yet Arwen gazed at him knowingly, before she stole a quick glance at the prince, smiling wickedly at him.

Glorfindel was also watching his old friend, marveling at the myriad of expressions that he unwittingly exteriorized. Surprise, admiration, arrogance, discipline, surrender, discipline again. Glorfindel was fascinated, and Aerion understood that Glorfindel was too engrossed in the non-verbal interaction taking place to introduce him, and so he did so himself.

"I am Aerion, Chief Advisor to Lord Cirdan, 'tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Legolas".

Legolas turned his head to the forgotten dignitary and smiled genuinely, feeling instant empathy with this elf, who projected wisdom and goodwill, yet Legolas could tell he was skeptical. However, this did not alter his initial impression. Unknown to the prince, Aerion had had more success in hiding his own reaction, but that did not make it less spectacular than Gildor's had been.

By all that was holy, this creature was truly a feast to the eyes- in all his long years, he had never seen the likes – yet the elf was discerning, he could tell. He was bright, very bright, for all his relative youth. He thought then, that the body beneath the simple yet elegant attire would surely be fit for the gods themselves.

Celeborn was enjoying himself – again. He watched avidly as the story played out, head swiveling from one player to the other, as an owl would track its prey, a slight smile on his lips, eyes on fire.

Galadriel smiled inwardly, for her husband could be so very adoringly childish, and so for good measure, she subtly squeezed his thigh under the table, telling him in no uncertain terms that he should control his enthusiasm, which of course he did, immediately.

Food began to appear, the serving elves placing exquisite platters of meats, vegetables and bread before the guests. Corks popped and liquid sploshed from the necks of elegant bottles, into the waiting goblets of the elves. Gaerwyn's face appeared besides Legolas then, surprising the prince, for he seemed out of his element here in the dining room, rather than behind it.

"Gaerwyn", he acknowledged with a smile.

"My lord", began the cook, moving as close as he could to the prince, for he wanted to give his message quietly. "Forgive my trespass, only I will not get the chance before tomorrow. I wished only to tell you that I and my family are with you, my lord. We believe, and we rejoice, we have no doubts, for we have seen your heart and we know it to be good and honourable. I hope also, to please your tomorrow with what my humble hands may create."

Legolas was beaming, not for how Gaerwyn had honoured him with his words, but with love, and those that looked on, had heard nothing yet seen it all as clearly as the words penned in a book. Glorfindel smiled beautifully, so very proud of what he had been gifted, and Gildor saw it, realizing then, what they shared. His ex-lover was besotted, and he knew not whether the notion pleased him, for Glorfindel had been so very difficult to forget.

Dinner progressed until the main course had finished, fruit and liqueurs now lying in its place as conversation flowed, albeit somewhat stiltedly at the head. Legolas, however, was in a world of his own.

"Would you not agree, Prince Legolas?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, returning to the table when he had heard his name, unfortunately he knew neither _who_ had said it, nor worse still, _what _they had said. He knew then, that the only dignified way out f this one was to confess.

"I beg your pardon, my lords, I was a world away", he said contritely.

"That is understandable", it was Arwen who spoke then, much to Elrond's surprise.

"You face a life-changing moment tomorrow, my friend", she emphasized strangely, smiling enigmatically.

Elladan glanced at his father – the strange interaction between Legolas and his sister was repeating itself, and he wanted to gauge his father's reaction. And there it was, he too had picked up on it.

"I said", repeated Aradan kindly, "that the gardens have been so beautifully decorated, would you not agree?"

"I confess I have seen little of it, my lord, but if the ladies Galadriel and Llyniel have had a hand in it, I know it will be spectacular."

"Indeed", he replied, somewhat worriedly, for although his prince's retort had been correct and gallant, it seemed to him that Legolas was retreating into himself.

Sure enough, as time progressed, the quieter and more subdued Legolas became, however no one picked him up on it, and those that were tempted to do so, were subtly reminded by their peers or superiors, that they should leave the prince to his own devices.

Surprisingly, it was Erestor who precipitated the end of the dinner, claiming exhaustion, which was true, and a busy day ahead, which was a nothing short of a blinding understatement. And so chairs were pushed back, as the lords began to leave, Legolas walking passed his bowing subjects, smiling warmly at them as he was accompanied upstairs, and out of sight, followed by the eyes of Arwen and her brothers.

Glorfindel had steered him to Elrond's chambers, becoming more concerned with every step they took, for the prince moved hesitantly, as if his mind was removed from the movements of his body.

Erestor and Elrond were behind them, watching carefully.

The solid oak door finally closed and Glorfindel relinquished his hold on the prince, who promptly moved over to the balcony and stepped out into the quiet, moonlight night, clutching the railings in his strong hands, willing the soft breeze to soothe him.

Inside, his friends removed their formal robes and circlets, taking off their shoes and unclasping their hair. Erestor moved over to the side board and served a nightcap for them all, taking both his own and Legolas' out onto the balcony, standing flush with the introspective prince. Glorfindel had sat himself on the chaise long as Elrond moved to the other side of his lover, looking at him as he continued to gaze out into the night.

"You called Arwen your queen", he began, never one to mince words where his children were concerned.

"Yes"

"Why?" the question was not antagonistic, it was direct. His sons had spoken to him of what had passed in the gardens between them and he honestly did not know what to think. Had it been foresight? Did Legolas believe he would be married to his daughter in the future?

Both Glorfindel and Erestor listened silently, for they had not been privy to the conversation. Glorfindel had visibly stiffened, yet remained silent.

"Because it is what she will be to me, in the future" he repeated, still distant and unperturbed by the lord's interrogation.

"You will marry my daughter?" he asked then.

"No". The answer had brought him back to the present – it had been instant and emphatic, and Glorfindel relaxed his body.

"She and I will be friends, the likes of which Elvendom has never seen", he began, his eyes misting. Elrond knew this was foresight and he held his breath, afraid to move lest he break the spell and spoil the moment. "She is part of my destiny, as I am a part of hers, she will be there the day it is finally done, and I will call her queen, as I will call Glorfindel my king." His mouth remained slightly open as his head tilted back, the soft breeze playing with the fine hair sitting over his shoulder. It was over, there was no more to tell, yet it had been enough to both please yet mystify Elrond, and had driven Glorfindel to his feet, a single tear leaking from the corner of one eye. Erestor watched the beauty of the moment play out, as the warrior stepped up behind his prince and engulfed him in his arms, rewarded by the blond head resting against his own, yet never once taking his eyes off the forests before him.

"I would stay here", he began softly, almost whispering, "with you all this night, here on the balcony if I may."

"You may, sweet Legolas, we will be here if you need us" said Elrond fondly, turning and walking into the room, yet as Erestor turned to follow him, Legolas caught his hand and pulled him close.

"I do not forget you, Erestor, for I love you too, never forget", he said, kissing him softly. Erestor smiled then, and with a final glance at Glorfindel, followed his lord inside.

Glorfindel sank down on the chaise long, pulling his lover with him, who was still facing the forests, feeling strangely protected before them, his warrior love behind him, he could wish for nothing more, but tomorrow, tomorrow…

Sighing, he turned his head into Glorfindel's neck. "Take my clothes off", he implored. "I wish to feel the breeze on my skin."

Glorfindel smiled as he reached his hands around his strong chest, unclasping the formal tunic, and then the soft undershirt, baring his lover to the night. Moving his hands down to the ties of his breeches, he took a moment to caress his lovers sex, before pulling open the front and slipping his hand inside, immediately noting the metal bead adorning the straining head.

The prince gasped softly, allowing his lover's gentle touch, yet wishing more than anything, to be out of his clothes, and so he stood, peeling away the rich cloth, boots and circlet, leaving only the hair adornment Glorfindel had gifted to him. Completely naked, he walked into the room in search of a wrap he knew he had somewhere amongst Elrond's effects. Both dark elves watched avidly as he turned to them, wrapping his waist and thighs with the soft green silk, hiding yet enhancing his sensuous body. Legolas smiled saucily as he left once more for the balcony, where Glorfindel sat watching, his own shirt had disappeared as he lay naked under the moon.

Elrond turned to Erestor then, and kissed him passionately, Erestor returning it as he began to tug at his lord's clothes…

…..

The moon had set, it was deep night, and he could not sleep. The weight of what was to come was unbearable during those dark hours.

"Elbereth, give me strength" he whispered into the night. You set such a difficult task before me."

"_One that only you can achieve."_

He jerked awake, for someone had spoken. He realized then, that he was reclining on the chaise longe, next to his lover on the balcony, a blanket draped over him. He had been sleeping, had been dreaming – or had he?

The sun was not far from rising as he walked slowly into the room, slipping on his shirt, breeches and boots once outside so as not to rouse the slumbering lords within. We walked for a while until he came to one of the many natural pools further out in the surrounding lands of the house. The same one the lords had splashed around in not long ago, the day he had received the first message. Removing his clothing once more, he dived silently into the inky water, resurfacing and swimming lazily, before pulling himself onto a rock.

Tilting his head back, he watched as black stained to dark blue. Sunrise was not far off. The forests were well; they were alive as they had never been. It hailed him, comforted him, loved him, protected him as he protected them.

He smiled with reserve as he heaved a great sigh of trepidation, for this day would be one he would never forget, he only hoped he would be able to live up to the expectations the Valar had placed in him.

'_A task only you can achieve'._


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN: Rejoice

Author's note: my thanks to my wonderful beta Mindirith.

Elrond slowly surfaced from his slumber, a naked Erestor snuggled against his side. Turning his head to his lover, he smiled as he watched his chief advisor blink, then swallow thickly, only to finally focus on his lord.

They shared a contented smile, which was promptly followed by a widening of the eyes as both realized the significance of the day.

"We should rise, Erestor, for there is much to achieve today."

"Yes, and well I know it, for I am partly responsible. But first, kiss me – give me strength to make this day through to its end".

Rising from the tussled bed, Elrond stepped onto the balcony, finding a slumbering, naked Glorfindel, covered only with a thin sheet that had been draped over his magnificent body. However, Glorfindel awoke to the sound, as Elrond turned his eyes to the gardens, Erestor coming up behind him.

….

Down in the gardens, the Greenwood elves sat cross-legged on the lawn, behind the kneeling prince, faces lifted to the rising sun, voices intoning the strangest of melodies, in fact it was a simple monotone, but in a number of registers that was impossible to enumerate, from bass and baritone to contralto and soprano, sometimes soft and comforting, other times strong and soul-lifting, coinciding with the movements of the sun and its effects over the forest. In the midst of the group, sat Mentathiel, all tuned in on her as she conducted the choir through the nuances of her prodigiously strange alto voice, as she herself watched he who sat before them, facing the woods.

…

Lindir's ears woke him, for the most amazing choir of voices was singing a monotone in the gardens below. As he tuned into the music, he realized the structure was ever-changing, from serene and harmonic, to powerful, vibrant crescendo. His lover moved to his side then, smiling beautifully as he simply said,

"The Spirit Singer".

Lindir turned his head slightly, enough to acknowledge the comment, yet he remained silent, for the music was weaving a magic over him that he could never have described, it was beauty, and he would not ruin the moment.

…..

Breakfast was subdued. There were many elves present, but there was a lack of the now characteristic morning chatter. There was a crackling tension in the air, a sense of expectation, anxiety almost.

His twin sons and his daughter sat by his side, eating dutifully, yet somewhat rigidly for the normally playful siblings. Haldir sat with them, together with his brother Rumil. This band of friends were inseparable, had been fast friends from the moment they met, but Elrond had always had a morbid curiosity as to Haldir's pretentions with his daughter. She was free to love whom she would, of course, but Elrond was nothing if not a loving, concerned father.

It was Gildor who finally broke the silence.

"Lord Elrond. Perhaps you can tell us all the order of events for the day?"

He had obviously spoken with the praiseworthy intention of easing the tension, and Elrond visibly appreciated his effort, Gildor was indeed trying, as he had promised, and Elrond had expected no less of him, for he knew him worthy – he had been a lover to Glorfindel for many years.

"Well now, I will tell you what we know", said Elrond, in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

"The ceremony will take place in the gardens to the back of the house. I invite you all to be there at sunset. We will enjoy a banquet, followed by drinks and entertainment. This is as much as I know Lord Gildor, the rest is in the hands of Prince Legolas."

"We heard the most wonderous singing this morning, Lord Elrond. What was that? For it was not after the fashion of the Noldor", said Aerion, his party nodding at his words.

Elrond looked to Lindir then, in a silent plea to explain.

"That would be the Avarin Spirit Singer, my lord", said the musician. "I can tell you little, only that you will hear more of it today. She is an extra-ordinarily sensitive individual, capable of picking up the past, feeling the emotions of those she touches, and intuitively piecing together future events. She will have a pivotal role to play in this evening's ceremony."

Aerion stared at Lindir for a while, as did Gildor. The very idea was so exotic, and yet it fit with the idea they had of the elusive, magical avari of the woods. They smiled then, almost in complicity, for the events of the day were going to be surprising and unforgettable, which for elves _their_ age was saying a lot. Faith be damned, they may be skeptical as to the naming of this elf, but they were not going to let pass the party of the century!

…

Morning turned to afternoon, the natives and visitors of Imladris rested in their quarters, the lords included, for a long night lay ahead of them.

However, Gaerwyn and his crew were working overtime, again. In fact, the entire lower floor of the house was in complete and utter chaos. Wine and fine liqueurs were being brought up from the cellars, game was being prepared, vegetables peeled and washed, various pastries and sponges were being decorated or stuffed. Water was set to boil, only to be whisked away to a room, and set to boil once more. Candles were being retrieved, lanterns filled with oil, incense set to holders, ready to be lit later in the evening. Decorators decked the tables with fine linen, crystal and silverware. The gardens looked beautiful, yet Celebrian's realm stood out in stark contrast, a macabre reminder of her ordeal and final departure to Valinor in search of healing.

…..

Legolas sat with those he had come to call his 'witnesses' on the library balcony. He remained quiet and pensive as they spoke quietly of the evening's events. He turned his head to Mithrandir, whose robes seemed – whiter than they normally were, however he did not comment on it, but simply smiled. Mithrandir silently challenged him to say it with a simple arch of his left brow.

Turning back to the conversation, he began to pick up their comments.

"All has been prepared, now it is the prince that calls the shots, Elrond."

"Well, Legolas? Can you tell us what to expect?" asked Galadriel.

He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully so as not to spoil the surprise, yet he was also conscious of the fright factor – what he planned to do could potentially cause a panic and Glorfindel would need to be alerted to that fact.

"I will tell you what I can, for I will not spoil the surprise I have in store for you, Elrond, and indeed you, Galadriel, Celeborn. I would however, prefer to perform the demonstration _before _you make the proclamation, Elrond. Perhaps then, our skeptics will have been converted?

"It makes sense", he retorted, nodding approvingly at the prince.

"But what can you tell us of the demonstration?" pressed Erestor.

"I will await the moment to carry out the demonstration, and though I will not tell you the nature of it, I must say this. You should be prepared for a possibly adverse initial reaction from the people, until such time that they understand what is at hand, they may be – frightened."

"Frightened?" exclaimed Erestor, "Legolas, you are frightening _me _now, what…."

"Nay Erestor, I cannot. Please my friend, trust me."

Glorfindel considered the prince's word. He had not anticipated organizing a rotation for the ceremony, he would have to talk with Cormion…

"Will you take your place and dine with us before it is done?" asked Elrond, for he was concerned with the order of things, he had to make a proclamation after all.

"I do not think it a good idea. The atmosphere would make the celebration tense. I should wait to join you, once it is done, and the proclamation made, yet I cannot vouch for my mental state. Remember, I have never done this before, I do not know what to expect", he confessed, looking over to Mithrandir, who was smiling fondly at him.

"Legolas", began the wizard, "I know not the nature of this thing, although I have but a small inkling, yet it is important that you go with your feelings and intuitions, do not suppress them, even at the high table – do _what_ you must, _when_ you must", he explained, watching as Legolas heard him, and nodded.

"Well this is a promising day indeed, I for one cannot wait!" exclaimed Celeborn. The mood needed lightening, they were all far too solemn and introspective – this was cause for joy and he said as much.

"And you are right", smiled Glorfindel, squeezing the prince's hand as he stood. This is a day for celebration and jubilation, and I intend to enjoy every strange, magical, wonderful moment of it".

"Well said!" guffawed Mithrandir. "Now, I am off to the gardens, I shall see you all at sunset." And with that he was off, already fumbling in his pocket for his pipe and pack.

"Well, I should rest for a while", said Legolas. What he really intended to do was inspect the contents of the chest that Erestor had retrieved from the forests on the night of his investment.

Standing, he met Glorfindel's eyes, negating with his head that he should not follow, yet smiling in reassurance.

…..

He shut and bolted the door to his quarters, sitting on the bed and staring at the beautifully carved chest. It was big, longer than it was wide, all he had to do was get up and fling the lid back and that would be it. Yet the contents had been the object of much internal conjecture, he expected some sort of status object, a piece of jewelry, yet why was the chest so big?

Sighing, he moved over to it, kneeling before it and letting his hand slide over the swirls of wood and bone, running a finger over the roots and leaves, the small, beautifully rendered forest animals hidden between the carvings – it was unique, and exquisite, fascinating, for the more you looked at it, the more detail was revealed.

The latch was there, under his fingers. All he needed to do was push and the mechanism would be released.

With a metallic click, the bolt slid sideways, he was free to open the lid and push it back.

Placing one hand on each side, he slowly lifted the top, it was heavier than he had expected it to be – there, he had done it, it was open.

The box appeared to have several layers, for the bottom was clearly higher than the base of the chest. In this first 'floor' was a pile of cloth. Pulling at it, he held the first item up. It was a silken skirt of pale blue, but the front had been cut out – this would sit just above the knees at the front, between his legs, but it draped down to the ankles at the sides, reaching the floor at the back.

Reaching inside once more, he pulled out a heavy - over skirt? He was not sure how the attire should be combined, yet it was a spectacular item, for it had been made of individual velvet leaves, inlaid with silver on the underside - also in the shape of an inverted V at the front. The waistband caught his attention then, for it was a long, deep brown sash, meant perhaps to be wrapped around the waist several times, for it was lengthy indeed.

The last objects were the most stunning boots he had ever seen. Of soft brown leather, they were form fitting, inlaid with golden leaves around the ankles, in the fashion of bangles, he thought. They were long, way past the knees. Well, his lady seemed to want to show him off, and he would not gainsay her – he realized then, that he was to appear bare-chested before all – he was not shy, but even in the Greenwood, they would wear a sash of some kind, even if to cover one side of the chest.

Searching for the mechanism that would loosen this first base, he pulled it away, and gasped audibly, for there, lying over the blue velvet cloth, was a collection of jewelry, fit indeed for a king. His eyes widened as they trained in on a crown, or a head dress, he did not know what to call it, for it was enormous, bigger than any crown he had ever seen, even in the story books of old. He suddenly felt self-conscious, to wear this – it would be sheer vanity. Legolas wore jewelry, loved jewelry, but this – he knew he would need help with it. The sides were a mass of swirling roots of gold and silver, small, almost invisible carvings of birds and animals peeked out, becoming more visible the more he looked. There was a tiny nightingale with minute emeralds for eyes, a small rodent, a butterfly with sapphires worked into the open wings. The back had been clearly fashioned after the antlers of a stag, sweeping down to the shoulders. He was breathing hard now. This piece had not been wrought by any craftsman of Arda, this had been carved by the master himself, his lady's spouse, Aulë. He turned his eyes back to the box, and realized its significance – it was the same design.

Setting it aside, he inspected the remaining pieces, trying hard to keep his eyes from the crown.

There were two golden vambraces that would cover his entire forearms, a bicep band of forest swirls that would weave around the arm, and then a nose to ear piece, a beautiful yet simple emerald for each extremity, joined by three chains of the thinnest mithril he had ever seen.

What more could there possibly be? For there was a final layer to reveal. He laughed when the thought of finding a list of instructions hit him as he removed the base – but what lay there took his breath away – it was a sword. His eyes bulged as all mirth left him. This was why the chest was so big. He lifted it out with both hands, the scabbard was of a brown leather with gold inlay, the pommel of mithril with gold twining. Gripping it with his sword hand, he pulled slowly, revealing the blade and the tengwar that had been engraved.

'The Valar command you'.

The entire blade had now been revealed. It was long, and slightly curved, heavy for most, yet for him it was manageable, although he would have to train hard before he could use it he knew. He realized there were yet more etchings around the pommel.

'Yavanna protects you'

Words had left him, he was overwhelmed, they had wanted something spectacular, had they not? Well they would get it, by the Valar themselves, they would get it.

It suddenly occurred to him then, that if there was any chance of him being ready for sunset, he would have to start now, for only the fitting of the crown would take a long while.

Walking briskly to the door, he left in search of Glorfindel.

He found him in the company of Elrond as they exited the library. Legolas' face must have been a picture, for Elrond scowled and Glorfindel approached him, a concerned look clouding his joyous features.

"What is it? Are you well?"

"I am – uh, yes, just a little – I , Glorfindel, I need your _help_", he squinted as he cocked his head to the side.

"Of course, tell me".

"I need you to find Llyniel with all haste and come to my quarters as soon as you may."

"Alright", he nodded, turning to Elrond, smiling, and jogging away. Legolas remained there a moment as Elrond stared at him.

"I will see you later, prince" he said, smiling as he walked to his own quarters where Erestor awaited.

…

Glorfindel found the lady almost immediately, sitting near the front of the house together with Arwen. Approaching the ladies, he greeted them with a dip of the head, but his errand was urgent, and it must have shown on his handsome face.

"Lady Llyniel, your presence is required by your prince", he said, holding her eyes, willing her to see the urgency of his request.

Her eyes widened for a moment as she calmed herself once more, rose and followed the warrior, bowing to the lady she had only just met, but who had impressed her so much.

Once they were out of earshot, she turned to Glorfindel as they walked briskly to the prince's quarters.

"What is it?"

"Legolas requires us both, 'tis all I know".

A knock to the door and it opened almost immediately, he had been waiting for them, naked except for a soft towel covering his sex.

"Close it and bolt it", he said succinctly.

Glancing at each other, they moved into the room, and pulled up as they took in the item sitting on the dresser.

"I cannot, I have never, what, this is… Legolas!"

"Indeed", he said, raking his fingers through is long hair.

"What in all Arda", began Glorfindel.

"My friends, there is no time, this, this thing will take a lifetime to fit, you must help me, for I will not make it, I have no idea what to do with this…"

Snapping out of the spell, he moved towards the prince, Llyn at his side as they sat him down and together, began their work.

Llyn picked up the crown and had thought to rest it upon his head, yet as she inspected the item more closely, she realized it would be better to slip it on, from the front. She instructed Glorfindel to pick up the twisted upper locks as she testing her theory, slipping it into place where it sat perfectly, the swirling roots lying just above his ears and extending towards the back, down to his shoulders. As Glorfindel released the mass of locks, Llyn showed him her idea of twisting the locks into the roots, without obscuring the carvings.

And so they both worked in harmony, twisting locks into the golden roots as they admired the mastery of the piece – every time Glorfindel looked he discovered a new detail to it, another animal, bird, leaf, root…

An hour later, Legolas sat looking at his reflection in the mirror, reminding himself that it was, indeed himself that sat there. His thick ropy hair had all but disappeared into the crown, leaving the soft silky underlayer to cascade down his back, brushing his hips. The result was spectacular, it would never have occurred to him to dress the crown in such a way, he had suspected it would take a lady to achieve it, for this kingly attire had been chosen by a female for a male.

Llyn stood back then, as if seeing the effect for the first time. What she saw was heart-breakingly beautiful, and she smiled widely, sharing it with Glorfindel who was beaming down at his lover, their lover.

"Come," urged Llyn, as she reached for the underskirt, opening it at the waist for the prince to step inside. Once on, Glorfindel reached for the heavy overskirt, pulling it up to his trim waist and starting on the sash, while Llyn adjusted the cloth. The result was a long ankle length skirt which was cut at the front to mid-thigh, the light blue peeking out from the edges of the moss green. Legolas finally stepped into the perfectly fitting boots which hugged his muscled legs, disappearing under the skirts, but leaving a thin strip of bare leg, enough to entice any that dared to look. The sash wrapped around the prince's abdomen twice, finally tying off at the back, trailing down to the backs of his knees.

Legolas himself placed the nosepiece, adjusting the parallel chains of mithril which hung low under his cheekbone.

The vambraces completed the heavenly attire, and although they had been dressing the prince for over an hour, they now stood back, hand in hand, watching as Legolas turned to face them. Glorfindel's hair stood on end, his eyes watering as his mouth opened, breath accelerating, pulse racing, blood rushing in his ears.

…

Musicians began to tune their instruments and the smell of exquisite cooking began to impregnate the house. The noise outside was growing louder, a sure sign that the guests were already congregating, searching for their assigned seats, conversing, speculating, gossiping. Legolas sat once more, turning to his friends.

"Go and ready yourselves, for you have not dressed yourselves yet."

"Legolas, I would organize a small escort for you, if that is acceptable. A warrior to represent each nation. You mentioned the possibility of alarm, and although we know we cannot be at your side, or at least I suspect it, let us stay behind you…"

"Alright, but I will wait a while – give me an hour perhaps."

They left with all haste, rushing down the corridor, Llyn darting into her quarters; luckily, she had already laid out her dress. Glorfindel would wear his ceremonial Gondolin attire, for tonight he represented the House of the Golden Flower, tonight he stood for his lost city.

After fifteen minutes, he left the room, headed for Llyn's quarters, he would escort her, see the atmosphere downstairs, and then come back for Legolas.

Glorfindel and Llyn were the object of much chatter as they made their entrance in the gardens below. They were stunning together, the Gondolin warrior attire never ceased to amaze the citizens of Imladris, albeit he had perhaps worn it but two or three times. Llyn wore a beautiful light purple dress, a simple circlet holding her long locks at bay to the side of her lovely face.

Elrond hailed them to the table, where the lords sat drinking an original, minty aperitif that Brathiniel had created.

"Come, sit with us, what news?" asked Celeborn, leaning forward for the details – indeed it seemed to have rubbed off on Gildor, for he too, was avidly awaiting a reply – these two were fast friends, thought Glorfindel.

But before he could answer, Erestor interrupted.

"What was in the chest, Glorfindel?" Now, Elrond was leaning forward. Galadriel was hiding it, but she too was sitting slightly to one side. He would have to tell her about that nuance; it had obviously escaped her control.

"My dear friends, we warn you now, prepare yourselves for a shock to the senses…"

…

The guests sat and observed as friends, colleagues and fellow rulers filed into the gardens, nodding and exchanging pleasantries with each other, yet there was not the jovial atmosphere typical of a formal banquet, especially in the Greenwood. Voices were hushed, conversations discrete, everyone keeping one eye on the doors to the house.

There were scores of elves lighting lanterns and candles. The weather was fair, and no breeze was to be felt – the air was static, expectant as dusk was gave way to darkness and the sky changed from deep red to dark blue, soon to change to milky black, for the Moon was full this night.

The stage was full of musicians and singers, all taking their places, sitting or standing, with or without instrument. Both Lindir and Amanthor were there, Lindir with his harp and Amanthor as conductor for the first part of their joint opus magnus. Tapping his stand as he stood firm before the imposing, multi-cultural orchestra and choir, he began the first tune. A sweet and soothing harmony for strings and woodwind, with soft contralto and soprano voices in a three-way descant. It was just the thing, thought Elrond, as he squeezed Erestor's hand under the table, for it had begun and there was no turning back.

Immediately after this first lyrical piece, the rumbling vibration of Greenwood's massive drums struck a slow, majestic rhythm that was eventually joined by a chorus of fiddles that struck a tune in minor, evoking sadness, yet strength and perseverance. As the chorus was repeated, the percussionists threw their sticks into the air, catching them dexterously before beating the drum once more, to the delight of all present who were participating with gasps and exclamations of surprise and delight. The atmosphere was relaxing. Gildor and Celeborn sat together, tapping their feet to the forest beat, a wide smile on their faces. Galadriel, however had sat with Elrond and her grandchildren, for she felt the urge to be with her family this evening.

Mithrandir sat to one side of Elrond together with his fellow maia, staff in hand, watching the treeline before the gardens.

Sometime later, Glorfindel stood, beckoning to Elladan whom he addressed as Captain. The dark elf understood immediately, Glorfindel was now his general, and he was being given an order.

"Marchwarden Haldir", he said, catching the Lorien elf's eyes, he too, understood immediately.

As Glorfindel began to retreat from the garden with Elladan and Haldir in tow, Glorfindel gestured to Galdithion who was sitting with his people.

"Will you join us, lieutenant?"

Galdithion stared, puzzled for a moment, until he realized he was being included in something important. Nodding to his friends, he rose, and left with them, followed by hundreds of eyes that all asked the same question. 'Where go the greatest warriors on Arda?'

…..

A knock to the door brought Legolas back to himself, at least partially, as he bid his visitor enter, standing as he did so.

Glorfindel entered, smiling joyously at his lover, but the smile faltered as he realized that Legolas' expression had changed. His face was devoid of emotion, yet he shone with a brilliance that was not normal, and his eyes, for the love of Yavanna, his eyes...

Shocked, he moved to the side, allowing his fellow warriors access into the room. They stopped dead in their tracks, while Galdithion sunk to his knees, yet unable to take his eyes of the outlandish vision before him.

…

The party was well under way when Galadriel visibly startled, stiffening as her nostrils flared, her eyes widening. Mithrandir had had a similar reaction, glancing sideways at Aiwendil, who was looking towards the doors - for he too was clearly reacting to something Elrond could neither see nor hear.

The music petered out as Amanthor and Lindir turned to the doors leading to the gardens, for this, surely was the arrival of the lord himself. Now was the time to start the herald they had composed together. Turning to his musicians once more, and feeling Lindir stand by his side, he began to conduct the piece that would be the highlight of their lives – Herald to the Forest Lord…


	8. Chapter 8

LORD OF THE FORESTS: The Demonstration

Author's note: This chapter, specifically descriptions of music and singing were partially inspired by Dead Can Dance, with the wonderful Lisa Gerard, she specifically is the voice of Mentathiel. Just a little tribute to some beautifully imaginative and mystical music, and of course, a wonderful voice.

And of course, a big thankyou to my beta reader Mindirith.

_The music petered out as Amanthor and Lindir turned to the doors leading to the gardens. Now was the time to start the herald they had composed together. Turning to his musicians once more, and feeling Lindir stand by his side, he began to conduct the piece that would be the highlight of their lives – Herald to the Forest Lord…_

He looked out at each and every one of the musicians before him, all watching their leader, this master musician, for they had trained so very hard for this moment; he smiled and nodded at them, willing them to play as they had _never_ done before. Their faces were open, expectant, nervous yet determined. Amanthor turned to Lindir then, smiling openly now as it was returned, the shine of love lighting his eyes.

Amanthor's entire body tensed as he suddenly jerked forwards and upwards, one arm pointing to the base drums, the other to the woodwinds. As the music began, he pointed to percussion, and base strings, setting a powerful underflow for the choir who now stood to the sides and back of the now swaying musicians, faces alight with passion as their fingers flew over frets and boards, slid over strings or keys.

Lindir prepared himself, for it would be his task to direct the choir, for this piece was complex to sing, and demanding on the voices. Coordination between music and voice was essential if it was to work.

Raising his arms, they watched as his eyes strayed to the sopranos. And then he came alive, his entire body marking the rhythm and intensity he required of them. He inspired them, the music inspired them, the setting, the meaning of the ceremony – everything came together to create what would become the greatest of pieces ever composed and performed, those present would tell of it to their descendents, would claim they had been _there_ that day.

They were singing a series of high staccato notes, with intermittent interjections rather like whoops or soft screams, gasps of joy and praise, they sung as their voices became instruments of percussion.

Aradan rose from his seat then, followed first by Llyn and Henian, and then, the entire Greenwood were standing, joining the choir in their herald, for they had seen Galdithion appear in the doorway. He shone gloriously, a prodigal son of the Greenwood, risking life and limb for their prince, soon to be king.

Elrond's senses were reeling, he felt humbled in the face of such utter dedication, for this prince had been a king long before he had been crowned, he had _always _been a king to his people.

As the choir and music began to climb in intensity and volume, Aradan held out his arm towards the door, as Galdithion became visible to all, his sword shining as he held it out towards the front in a gesture that was unmistakable. 'Do not approach'. Flanking him was Elladan wearing his ceremonial armour of black and mithril, the paradigm of a lethal warrior, the perfect representative of his exalted house.

They stepped out then, and as more elves noted the arrival, they too, held out their arms as they sang louder and louder, channeling their shock and surprise into their voices.

And then, there he was, walking slowly behind his faithful guard, unarmed, bare-chested, glorious.

There were simultaneous gasps and exclamations that could not be held back. Many elves held their hands to their faces, over their mouths, eyes bulged at the sight before them – for the elf shone and the crown he wore was not of this world, they knew, and his eyes, his eyes…

The music reached its pinnacle, the chanting, the shouting, the exclaiming had sent the onlookers into a state of semi hysteria, for they were breathing hard, a strange sense of over-excitement taking them, the need to move and fidget became uncomfortable.

Behind him, Haldir and Glorfindel brought up the rear of the honour guard. Their golden armour glowing brightly, their drawn swords glinting dangerously in the candle-lit night, they were the picture of the legendary warriors of the first age, indeed one of them was just that.

Now, every single elf in attendance was standing, watching as the legends passed them by, past the lords, who nodded reverently to the new lord. He, however, stared straight ahead, his face a mask that could not be read. They watched on as Legolas paused, casting a glance to the side. His four guards stopped then, sheathed their swords as they knelt, yet Legolas walked a little further forward until he stopped, in front of the dead garden.

Elrond frowned; puzzled that he should position himself there, for he simply could not understand why he would want to include such an eyesore on this magical evening.

The music stopped then, and through the resulting silence, only heavy breathing could be heard, nobody moved, nothing stirred, no wind, no sounds of nature, nothing, and Galadriel's hair stood on end, she would later describe it as being in a vacuum, a place devoid of all stimulus, yet packed to the brim with life.

The two maias stood off to one side, between Legolas and the crowd of standing elves, even the musicians were afoot, turned towards the strange being who continued to stand stock still, gazing into the shriveled garden.

Glorfindel could not physically turn to his fellow warriors, for he was on official guard duty, but he knew they felt the same, for he had suddenly realized what Legolas pretended to do, and a wave of apprehension struck him. He hoped the contingent he had organized would control the crowds, should things get out of hand.

A warm breeze came from the front as Legolas opened his arms, his hair flying back – and then it began.

The onlookers noticed the gentle breeze, playing with their locks, rustling the leaves in the trees. Erestor had turned to Galadriel to gauge her reaction, but promptly whipped his head back to the front, for a pinpoint of blue light had appeared, apparently behind the open-armed Forest Lord.

The light grew brighter as it extended horizontally, until the elves were shading their eyes from the intensity of it. A low rumbling vibration seeped into their conscious minds then, deep and vibrant, shaking their chests and fraying their already straining nerves.

The light suddenly extended as Legolas became but a silhouette before it, bathing all in a silver light, the noise shaking the very ground.

There were screams and shouts, the sound of shattering glass and overturned jars as the guards began to secure the exits, yet they themselves more than a little unnerved. However they were well trained, and so they linked their arms together, disallowing the panic-striken evles from running away. Legolas' four guards were acutely aware of what was happening behind them, yet they knew they would be called for help, should Cormion require it.

And then the noise stopped and the light faded until it concentrated once more behind the Forest Lord. He moved then, for the first time, off to the side as a vision appeared before all that wished to see – becoming bigger as the light concentrated, a silver blue light that slowly began to take shape, and finally, amidst shouts of jubilation, joy, terror and hysteria, the White Tree appeared - their beloved Telperion.

Elrond's eyes were wide, his mouth agape, Erestor mirrored him almost perfectly, one shaking hand straying to his mouth. Galadriel was much the same, they all were, yet they were no longer frightened, they were now suffused with love, love emanating from the heart of Telperion – it was beauty to behold.

Galadriel held out an arm as if she would caress the bark, she knew she could not approach any more than they already had, it was a symbolic gesture. However the rest of the guests had slowly but surely moved beyond the banquet tables, closer to the Forest Lord.

Gildor for his part, had sunk to his knees, watching the tree reverently as tiny sparks of brighter light radiated from it; he was mesmerized, paralyzed, utterly ashamed that he could ever have doubted.

The tree began to dim then, the silvery tendrils of light dissipating into the moonlit night, until the vision had gone, and after the initial cry of despair, silence reigned once more.

Elrond wondered if this was the time to make the proclamation, but he decided to wait, for Legolas had not moved, he still stared out into the gardens as if he had not yet finished his demonstration, yet by all the Valar he had already made his point, Gildor was on his knees, no less.

Yet he had been right to wait, for Legolas moved forward a little, head cocked to the side as if hearing something only he perceived.

It was Galadriel's eerie voice that exclaimed loudly then, sending a chill through them all, her words echoing through the night.

"Life! There is life!" she cried, her eyes wide, her face one of utter disbelief…

Her grandchildren watched her, perplexed, 'there is life _where_?' They thought.

Mithrandir smiled as he watched Legolas' every move, He knew he had been right then, he knew what it was that was about to happen, and he suddenly felt very small and insignificant, humbled yet proud to be a servant of the Valar.

A low base string sounded then, surprising them all, for how had the musicians had the presence of mind to introduce music at such a crucial moment, yet as the sound became louder, they realized it was not a string instrument that had emitted the sound, but an elven voice, male or female they knew not, for it was deep and vibrant, strong and rich, it was the strangest, eeriest voice they had ever heard.

The melody was simple, a succession of minor notes shifting up and down, as if its creator sang to a lost love.

Amanthor snapped out of his trance-like state then, as he picked up the music, bringing in higher strings, wind and percussion – slowly, following the peaceful mourning of the Spirit Singer, watching her every move, every gesture.

To the solemn wail of the music, Legolas felt the moment his mind detached from the rest of his body. A strange crackling noise followed by a snapping to the back of his neck, a sudden enhancement of his senses - sight, sound, touch, smell, as his arms flung out to the sides, his mind unconsciously propelling itself forward, away from his guards and friends, moving into the dazzling light that had no relation to the Moon's reflection of the Sun's light, and then, he was inside, within the vibrant, beating life force of nature. His body however, remained anchored to the ground before the crowd, his face reflecting the force of the power radiating through him, from him.

The music exploded then, into a whirlwind of sound as a shroud of dense fog descended upon the gardens. Light emanated from the humidity, blinding to those who watched, yet Legolas seemed impervious to it as he simply stood there, head flung back, mouth open, back arched.

Yet there was no more panic; they now knew there was no danger, however unnerved they were by the magical events playing out before their very eyes.

Mentathiel returned to a single note, the quality was raw, tribal, less refined than her previous singing, yet more passionate, it flowed from the soul, from the heart, no rational thought guided her as she poured out the power that was infusing her as she watched the scene before her, the musicians in turn, listening to her as they reflected the feelings she wound into the sounds.

She was joined by other Sylvan elves, who slowly but surely fell into the atavistic rhythm, losing themselves little by little as their voices became more passionate, less measured. Some of the Noldor elves joined the singing then, timidly at first for the concept of spirit singing was new to them, however they soon realized how it worked and threw themselves into the moment. The Sylvans, however, were past control, beyond vanity as they threw their arms up, swirled around, hair swaying dramatically together with the rhythmic movements of their bodies – they were entranced, taken by the emotions the music and the power were wreaking on their sensitive perceptions, they were the visual equivalent of the Spirit Singer's spontaneous creation. For they sensed it, they knew that life was being breathed back into this withered shell, their king resuscitating it from the dead.

The forests glittered and glowed beneath the veil of humidity, sparks of light would ignite and then taper out, rather like a distant electrical storm thought Elrohir as he watched the spectacle in awe.

The crowd of onlookers were deeply moved by the atmosphere that was being weaved before their very eyes, for their vision had been overloaded by the strange beauty of the moment; some wailed low in their throats, while others simply stood dumbfounded, eyes brimming with tears, skin tingling painfully under the onslaught of uncontrollable emotion.

The music stopped then, as did the breath of those witnessing the event.

Yet the fog persisted, and no elven eye could penetrate that which shielded the events taking place within. As Legolas concentrated the power he could feel within himself, he heard, or felt the leaves unfurl, the roots rehydrate and burrow deep into the now fertile soil. He perceived the plants and flowers unfold their petals and blooms, becoming green once more, as green as the mist that hung about their master's eyes. The scratching of nails and talons, pads and paws reached his senses; scurrying here and there, up into the trees, burrowing into the ground, the creeking of wood as sap began to flow freely once more. The ripples of water in the streams and ponds, which now harboured life, the low humming of insects as they began to repopulate the garden, once more vibrant and beautiful, yet still shielded to those that loved it the most.

And the music continued, although it was now combined with a series of bird warbles, hoots and screams that the woodelves mimicked to perfection, for although they could not see, they sensed the life returning to this once shriveled mockery of nature, they could feel it. Yet it was the Spirit Singer who was channeling that power, projecting her feelings to the four corners of Arda, reaping tears from every elf that continued to look on. Gildor was not exempt from the tide of emotions, for tears streamed down his rugged face, some for himself and his stupid pride, pride that had impeded him from seeing the truth, for he had known the first time he had seen the prince, he had known he had been wrong, but had managed to convince himself that that was not the case at all.

Legolas was propelled forward then, at a speed he knew his body could never have reached, for it was the magical part of him, the part that had detached from his body and that was now returning to it.

The sensation was so abrupt that he was flung backwards, staggering in order to keep his feet. He was back, and it was done, and the experience had changed him forever, for he had flown. Yet now was not the time to reflect on the events, but to show them, and so he raised his arms once more, as if willing the fog to dissipate upwards. Slowly but surely, it rose into the moonlit night, leaving the creation visible to those brave enough to look.

Someone screamed, someone wailed out of control, many gasped, others threw themselves to the ground, Arwen squeezed the hand of her father as his tears finally fell, unable to harness the force of his love for Celebrian, the power of his devotion to her, his adoration for he who had restored hope in his heart, for there – in front of his very eyes, life had been breathed back into the garden of his beloved queen, his soul mate, she to whom he would return when it was all over.

As Arwen turned her head back to the Forest Lord, she understood then, why she had said what she had. 'My king', she had said. Now she understood, for Legolas was, indeed, her king.

Glorfindel slowly rose from his kneeling position as the creation was finally unveiled. The garden still shone, but its contents were clearly visible. It was green and rich brown, silver and blue, the colours of nature, healthy and vibrant – alive! He knew that come tomorrow and the rising of the sun, the garden would be teaming with flowers, animals and birds. But more than this his lord had been brought back from the limbo he had been inhabiting since she left, he had been infused with hope and love once more, it was almost as if the new and beautiful garden were a reflection of what Celebrian herself was now, in Valinor.

It had been his lover, that enigmatic, stunning warrior he had met such a short time ago. He would never have guessed the outcome of their meeting then. It was hard for him to believe, that the one who had done this – miracle, he who had weaved such magic to create life – was his to touch, to kiss, to love and pleasure.

Turning his head back to the house for the first time, he spotted Erestor, kneeling some distance away from him, lost in himself, his face fixed on the garden, his face wet from tears of joy. Glorfindel smiled as he turned once more to the front.

Just then, Legolas turned and gestured with his hand towards Elrond and his family, yet he did not wait for them to respond, he simply walked into the heart of the reborn garden, knowing they would follow, as Mentathiel already was.

Legolas stopped before the rose bushes, feeling the presence of the Peredhel behind him, as Mentathiel began her spirit song, the one Legolas had commissioned as part of his gift.

Legolas knelt then, pushing his hand in the now moist, fertile soil, wrapping his hands around the straining roots. Elrond watched on, as if not quite understanding that Legolas was healing them, Elladan, Elrohir and their grandfather wore matching expressions of fascination and disbelief, yet the ladies were smiling beautifully, for the roses were no longer ruined, they had budded, their humid unfurled petals shining under the moon's light, their green stalks pulsing with water, and life, the green leaves reaching out to catch the light. Arwen and Elrohir sunk to the ground. Elrond's knees gave out from under him, face finally crumpling as his frame wracked with heaving sobs he could not control. His children crowded close, hugging their father and each other – this was the closure they had never had, for it had always been too painful, yet years later, after all the suffering, the anxiety, the depression, the killing, it had never been spoken of, and so it had festered. This was why the roses would not grow, realized the prince as he worked his magic on the roots, _this _was what Mentathiel was singing about.

"… the bud will not bloom until the sadness is purged"

And behind the now healing family, Celebrian's parents came together in a tender embrace, for Galadriel knew then, that their child had been restored in Valinor, she was hail once more, beautiful once more, and they rejoiced.

Legolas slowly began to make his way out of the gardens, as the entire population of Imladris met him head on as they moved in the opposite direction, eager to see the gardens. They reached out to him, touching him as he passed them. And then there was Gildor, beaming as he bowed low.

"Only a miracle could have changed my mind my lord, and that is what you have given us."

Legolas smiled forgivingly, placing a hand on his shoulder before continuing to walk away, leaving behind the music and the singing, his heart lightening now that it had been done.

Mithrandir and Aiwendil followed him from a distance, knowing he would seek solitude now, for after what the lord had just done, he would need to meditate, place everything into some semblance of perspective, rest and allow his mind to assimilate his deeds, reason away the confusion, the disbelief they knew _he himself_ would be feeling.

Legolas finally stopped under a welcoming tree, listening to its greeting, its invitation for him to take shelter and rest. And so the Forest Lord sat, crossing his legs under him, wishing he could slip his crown off, yet his hair had been worked into it, he would need help yet he did not wish for company, he wished for silence.

The two maias made their presence known to him then, walking over to the sitting lord and taking up identical seats on either side of him, smiling yet saying nothing. They simply reached up and began to untwine his locks, finally loosening the head dress and slipping it off.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he looked to one, and then the other, yet it was Mithrandir who spoke first.

"Well, young Forest Lord, it is done", he said softly, smiling fatherly. "You have done well", he said, glancing over to Aiwendil, who was smiling kindly, watching the young protégé as he dipped his head in thanks, yet his eyes wandered to the side, his expression losing focus.

"I can hardly believe what I have done", he whispered. "I did not know _how_ I would do it, only that I _would_ – and even then it still seems impossible to me, all that power. It was – frightening yet exhilarating", he laughed somewhat unsteadily, not with mirth but disbelief.

"You may find, young Forest Lord, that you cannot control your power at first", began Aiwendil. "You will need to channel it, learn to manipulate it, command it at will, 'tis no easy task", he added, his tone was challenging, yet his voice had been soft and melodic.

"But how, for I would not know where to begin", he said, his eyes regaining focus as he looked at the brown wizard.

"Then – let me help you. I am by no means a powerful wizard, Legolas. But I do have magic and I know the nature of it, this much I can teach you."

He smiled beautifully then, for he was truly relieved, he needed guidance, he knew, and who better than Aiwendil to give it?

"Then it is settled", said Mithrandir. "Now, my lord, do you wish to join the revelry? For you _are _a woodelf and you _are_ missing the party.

"There will be another time for celebrating, Mithrandir. I confess my mind is overloaded, strained to its limits, and my body seems – devoid of strength, I do not feel stable enough."

"Then rest, lay your head back and rest, we will keep your peace" he said, smiling kindly as he watched the young lord comply, laying back against the trunk, closing his eyes.

Mithrandir moved away a little, reaching into the depths of his grey-white robes. He took out his pipe and lit it, puffing out clouds of heavy blue smoke which then dissipated, focusing first into the form of the white tree, and then into a great Greenwood drum. Aiwendil watched and smiled as a child would, as he dug into his own pocket, taking out a wriggling field mouse, stroking its ears as it wrinkled its nose at the wizard, a jealous squirrel peaking over his brown-clad shoulder before rubbing its snout against the rugged face.

"Sleep long, sweet Legolas", whispered Mithrandir. "Sleep long".

And he did, for his dreams were sweet as he lay there in the embrace of the sentinel as it encircled its protector, wrapping him in a blanket of love, peace and hope.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's notes: and here is the last chapter of the story. I hope you enjoyed it, and will continue to read The Protégé, as Legolas begins to say goodbye, and on the way, comes to grips with his new sword. Coming soon: The Protégé V: Harvest

Please note that this chapter has been edited to comply with ffnet's rating system. You can read the full version on lotrfanfictiondotcom.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader Mindirith for cleaning this up.

Thanks also to EldarinPrincess, Ziggy, Chained heart, Kiyohara Shi, Bime and SilverNM for continuing to read and review. It is much appreciated.

CHAPTER NINE: Acceptance

Conscience returned to him slowly. He was so very comfortable where he was, so what was the rush? The forest's hum was peaceful and joyous, deep and vibrant; nothing was amiss, and he was in paradise. Adjusting his body slightly, he felt warmth at his side and snuggled into the soft body as he continued in his state of semi-vigil.

Soft singing filtered through his slumbering mind, swirling around in his head, it beckoned to him, lifting him up further towards the light of consciousness, until he finally cracked his green eyes open, registering the red sky visible through the canopy of rustling green leaves.

A finger caressed his lips then, outlining their curved shape, wandering down his neck, sketching the lines of his body, his face, his ear, and then he was kissed tenderly.

Looking up to the one that smiled down at him, he saw the face of an angel, a red sky behind him; Legolas wondered then if _this_ had been the last thing the Balrog had seen, moments before its death after razing Gondolin to the ground – what a beautiful goodbye for such a perversion of nature.

Legolas sat up then, taking the angel's face in his hands and kissing his lips demandingly, for a wave of love had surged over him, and so he shared it with the object of his desire.

Glorfindel drew back slightly, enough to focus on the face before him.

"Good morning, Lord of the Forests", he smiled proudly.

"Good morning, Lord of my Heart", he replied.

Of the two maias, there was neither sight nor sound, but a little field mouse scurried through the leaves, heading further into the forests, its task achieved.

…..

They reached Legolas' quarters practically unhindered, for Imladris was abed. The celebration had lasted long into the night; they had even greeted the dawn in Celebrian's gardens, watching as it came alive for the first time in centuries; they had looked on in awe as a carpet of flowers bloomed over the forest floor, the lady's roses unfurling their petals to the morning sun, waking up after centuries of sickly slumber.

He had stripped naked and thrown himself onto the generous bed, yet he sat up as he watched Glorfindel shed his own clothing, wishing he had the strength to stay awake and pleasure him, yet his body rebelled, for it felt leaden and fuzzy – he had slept as a child in the forest, Mithrandir and Aiwendil watching over him, yet it was not enough, and so he lay back, feeling the fresh morning breeze over his naked skin, and his lover move up behind him, encircling him in his powerful arms.

He smiled as he surrendered himself to oblivion once more.

…

Dusk had fallen as Legolas woke to the sound of sloshing water. The bathing room door was open and the bed beside him empty.

His naked lover appeared in the doorway, smiling at his sleep-tousled king.

"Good evening, my King. Were your dreams sweet?"

"Oh yes, now – come here" he said huskily.

Kissing once more, Glorfindel pulled him up and into the bathing chamber, where he had prepared a scented bath. It was early evening, yet he had lit every candle in the room, and a multi-coloured array of rose petals and fresh herbs floated on the surface of the warm water, glinting a vivid orangy hue as the ripples reflected the light of burning wicks.

Gesturing with his hand, Glorfindel invited the king into the luxurious, glittering liquid.

Obeying readily, Legolas stepped inside, sighing as he immersed his body up to the neck, wetting his long tresses which floated around him, then lay his head back against the cool stone, watching his lover as he took up a soft cloth and began to gently cleanse him, his movements slow and purposeful, taking care not to miss a single piece of luminescent skin.

His eyes were turned down and to the side, as he remembered how he had come across Legolas in the forests.

"I found you in the pre-dawn hours – cradled in the roots of a sentinel, the maias at your side; they are protective of you … They left then, leaving me to care for you. You looked so vulnerable, so natural, so _right _to me. I took you in my arms then, and held you in your slumber until the Sun peaked over the eastern horizon. I know not what the future holds for us, Legolas", he said then, looking at his lover with an expression that begged understanding, " but I do know that my future is _with you - _you and I will always be together – lovers may come and go, yet what binds us together is so much more.

Legolas looked long and hard at Glorfindel, who would no longer meet his eyes, instead continuing his precise and repetitive movements. Yet Legolas saw it for what it was - Glorfindel felt insecure, he worried that promiscuity would ruin their relationship. He thought then, that perhaps this had been triggered by the arrival of Gildor, for although Glorfindel had said nothing, Legolas knew they had been intimate, he also thought that Gildor may still harbor feelings for his lover, but were they returned?

"Glorfindel, there is a purpose to your words, I know. Tell me, are you worried that by taking another lover you will lose me? Is it Gildor you wish to be with?"

He sighed as he considered where to begin. He knew he may be exaggerating Legolas' reaction, but he would take no risks – his feelings for the Forest Lord were too profound.

"It is not only Gildor, Legolas. I speak generally. I know that you do not require abstinence from me in your absence, but what of taking lovers when you are present?"

Legolas analyzed his lover's face, watching every movement, every turn of the eye, every gesture, and then he spoke.

"What of it?" he asked.

"Well… I thought to ask, or more to reassure you – or perhaps myself, that should I take a lover, it does not mean I desire you less."

Legolas was smiling compassionately now, for Glorfindel was getting himself into a pointless pickle over something that to him was neither here nor there.

"Sweet lover; I thought we understood each other on this. You take _who_ you want, _when_ you want. Now, if the subject in question takes my fancy, I would appreciate an invitation to join in – other than that, Glorfindel I am a wood elf for the love of the Valar! We would wither and die without sex, 'tis our favourite past time - besides eating, drinking, singing, dancing…"

"All right!" chuckled Glorfindel, finally convinced that he was indeed free to act on his base desires. Yet he did have one final question.

"And does Gildor take your fancy?"

"Well…", considered the lord, "he is handsome enough, strong – sinewy almost. I am sure he would be an adequate partner – perhaps you could tell me more."

"He is skilled, I must say. He has an interesting technique with his throat, you see".

"Well, what? What does he do?"

"Ah, I will leave that for another time, for we will fluster ourselves and dinner is nigh upon us".

"Damn it all, Glorfindel" said Legolas as he stepped out of the bath, heading for the bedroom as he dried himself off, hearing Glorfindel's snickering behind him - he was already flustered, which of course Glorfindel had noticed.

"Just let us get through the meal, and then I will fuck you senseless. Is that acceptable to you, my King?" he smiled saucily.

"It is suitable, my Lord. Yet I will have your head should you fail me".

"That would be my very great pleasure".

Smiling, he returned his attention to the wardrobe.

"Ai but I yearn for the simplicity of the wood elf's attire! Simplicity, functionality, durability…" he said wistfully as he walked over to the wardrobe and considered his clothing for the evening.

After the pomp and ceremony of the previous evening, he yearned for something simple as his eyes strayed to a light blue tunic; yes, he would combine that with his black leggings.

Tying off the forest green sash, he sat before the mirror and completed his preparations with a tiny sapphire through the nose.

"However much you strive for simplicity, my love, it is simply not in your nature – you would look stunning in a horse's oat bag!" exclaimed Glorfindel as he admired his lover's elegant yet simple clothing.

…

Galdithion was ready, and so he reached under his bed and pulled out the square wooden case that his Lord King had entrusted to him before their departure from the Greenwood. He remembered the exact words his King had uttered, as he reverently handed him the cask. 'Lieutenant, I entrust you with this symbol of status, to be worn once he is proclaimed, just in case' he had said, smiling enigmatically. Galdithion remembered how much it had struck him then, how very alike father and son were, the only difference was Legolas' war-honed body, and now, his green eyes, and of course his strange hair. He smiled when he tried to envisage the King's reaction to his son's exotic appearance.

A wrap on the door revealed Aradan and Henian, whom he invited into his quarters with a sweep of his hand.

"Are you not ready to join the others?" asked Henian, wondering why his friend would want them to enter rather than join the others in the halls below.

"Come", he gestured again, leading them into the bedroom and producing the wooden box.

"This is what Lord Thranduil entrusted to me, and now, we must present it to our new Lord, that he wear it as a symbol of his status, at his father's behest."

"Yes", whispered Aradan. He was sorely tempted to throw the latch open and inspect what he knew to be a crown, yet he must not. Legolas would be the first to see the creation, and so he smiled at the two friends.

"Come, let us visit our Lord and present to him, that which his father would gift him with."

All three shared a conspiring smile, as they filed out of the room, headed for Legolas' quarters.

Once there, the three Greenwood elves were greeted by a smiling Glorfindel, who stepped aside for them to enter.

Legolas turned as he realized who had entered the room.

"Shall we go down together then? A merry band of wood elves?" asked Legolas.

"Of course, yet there is one missing detail. You remember your father's insistence at taking ceremonial attire – 'just in case'?" said Galdithion carefully.

"Ah, I do", said Legolas carefully, observing his friend and the wooden box he clutched in front of him. It was Aradan, however, who continued to explain.

"This is what your father commissioned four years ago, after the Lady's visit in the Greenwood. He has asked me to '_urge'_ you to wear it, if you will?" he said, as he nodded to Galdithion, who flipped the latch and pulled the lid back, revealing the item to Legolas as he approached, Glorfindel at his shoulder.

He stood there, admiring the beautiful piece as he considered Aradan's words then. Of course 'urge' meant 'do', he knew. He really did not have any obligation to wear it though, yet he would defer to his father's experience as a monarch – _he_ obviously saw the merit of it, and he would not gainsay his father on this, unless there was a very good reason to, besides, it was a beautiful item.

And so he nodded as he dipped his head a little, enough for Aradan to slip it on.

"There, it is done, and it does not burn! You look splendid!" he whispered emotionally.

He felt the uncontrollable urge to hug the child then, for Aradan had lived through his entire life, before it when the happy couple so avidly sought a child, lived through the hell of loss, and then slow recovery as this child became an elf, a prince, and now, a king. And so he did just that, he stepped forward and wrapped him in his strong arms, savoring the moment before pulling away and squeezing his shoulders, and promptly turning away towards the balcony, controlling his raging emotions as best he could.

They had all seen Aradan's emotions and so left him to his solitude while they stepped towards Legolas, admiring the workmanship, touching here and there. It was truly a beautiful piece, small enough to be worn on a daily basis, yet intricate enough to stand out for what it was, a crown for a king.

Once again his normal, cheerful self, Aradan turned towards the chattering elves, striding purposefully over to them.

"Now, let this 'band of merry wood elves' get themselves down to the festivities!" Declared the advisor with a flourish, as he turned and led the way, linking arms with his beloved king, and leaving a sulking Glorfindel to bring up the rear.

….

Amanthor and Lindir strolled idly down the tapestry-lined corridor, destined for the dinner room as they reminisced on yesterday's events. They had given the concert of their lives, had given their all, their knowledge, passion, emotion, everything they had, providing the music for the amazing Spirit Singer, Mentathiel.

"You know, it is strange to think that I didn't believe you that day when you told me about her – I thought you jested, Elbereth! Yet look what we have achieved – you and I. The concept of improvising to emotional stimulus seemed difficult enough in itself, but 'improvisation'? I have not done that for years!"

"You are a wonderful musician, Lindir – the best I have known. I knew you could do it, you just needed to let go, stop being a Noldor and begin your 'sylvanization'!"

"Oh away with you", said Lindir, feigning annoyance as they reached the open doors of the dining room, crossing the threshold together.

Their surprise was monumental, as the entire dining room broke into enthusiastic clapping, cheering and hooting. Both musicians stood quite still, their eyes bulging until they understood that it was for _them_, _they_ were being honored!

Lindir turned to Amanthor then, and broke into the most beautiful smile that the Sylvan had ever seen, and so he did they only coherent thing – for a wood elf. His kissed Lindir passionately on the lips, smiling into him as the crowd cheered even louder.

…

As the 'merry band' approached the hall, they caught the sounds of cheering and clapping, looking to each other for clarification – which no one offered, and so they continued until they reached their destination.

And the clapping and cheering continued, even as the couple took their places at the table, beaming and nodding their gratitude.

When the Forest Lord entered, they picked up their cheering once more, this time for Legolas and last night's magical deeds. He had sowed the seeds of hope in their hearts, had lifted the veil of sadness and mourning – had thus restored their sense of joy and light-heartedness; he was loved.

As group took their places at the table, the guests bowed reverently, waiting for their king to take his seat before accommodating themselves. There was much expectation among the people for they had not seen Legolas since the restoration – he had simply walked away and not given them the chance to thank him, bow to him, show their acceptance of his new station.

Elrond sat smiling fondly as he watched his people pay homage to the Forest King. He felt his heart swell, for although they had applauded _him_, the emotion behind it was also for their lost queen, Lady Celebrian. She had been so well-loved by all - still sorely missed, yet he knew they applauded the restoration of her gardens, and what that meant to Imladris, and to its Lord. And so he continued to smile proudly, his heart bursting with love and energy – for the first time in so many years.

Once the commotion had died down, Elrond stood, as was protocol, to say a few words and get this 'dinner', which was rapidly becoming another feast, off to a good start.

"My Lords, Ladies. I believe that after yesterday's events, in which we were all witness to the coming of the Lady Yavanna, and the restoration of Lady Celebrian's gardens…"

He had to stop, for they had burst out into frenzied applause once more, shouting their joy to the heavens.

"… the restoration of our beloved Queen's gardens, it would be redundant if I were to proclaim Legolas Thranduilion as King, for I know he already is in our eyes, and indeed in our hearts. However, I am compelled to invite any present to voice their concerns now, or forever hold their peace.

And the silence was deafening.

…..

The 'party' was well under way, and it seemed to Erestor that the Sylvans had in some way ensorcelled his Noldorin kin, for they had lost their sense of measure, were drinking considerable amounts of wine, and were dancing without the slightest modicum of dignity – for they were wheeling and jigging, swirling and jumping to the music that the Greenwood bards were offering, laughing outrageously, and enjoying themselves as much as they had on that first opening ceremony, not so long ago.

Celeborn was not far behind them, although he was still seated, together with his new found friend Gildor, and Haldir. His right foot stomped loudly on the wooden flooring, in time with the furious jig being played, his left hand slapping the table top, head bobbing from side to side.

"My Lord Celeborn – you truly are a Sylvan at heart. For look at you, anyone would say you were on the brink of taking a partner and joining them!" laughed Gildor as he glanced at Haldir, who was looking back at him with his right eyebrow arching dramatically.

'What have I said' he wondered to himself, but he was not left to ponder on it for long, because Celeborn the Wise had risen from his chair with an impetus that belied the alcohol he had imbibed, and walked over to Llyniel, who was conversing with Arwen.

Yet he did not speak. He simply did what any Lorien elf would do under the circumstances – he danced his invitation to the amused lady, who nodded immediately, taking his outstretched arms, and finding herself immediately whipped up in the swirling motions of the dance, screaming her surprise and joy as she was danced away.

Legolas watched the scene in amusement as he sat at the almost empty table. He had come to know Celeborn well during the festival, and had come to like him very much. He turned his head to Elrond who, he realized, was watching him.

"Legolas, I have not had a single moment alone with you since yesterday, and I have been wanting to – thank you – for what you have done."

As soon as he had said it, it had sounded _lame_, for to simply thank him for that life-changing moment was simply inadequate.

"What I mean", he began again, taking a generous sip from his goblet, "is that what you have done – what you have _created,_ your gift to me and mine, you will _never_ understand what it means to us. You have given us closure, you have healed the wound that would not close, you have saved my sons, and brought me back to life, Legolas. You have my eternal love and friendship, and my allegiance, my King."

Legolas was touched beyond words, his eyes filling with moisture as he stared into the lord's eyes, smiling kindly.

"Then perhaps you would show your gratitude by inviting your King – to a nightcap", he said, watching Elrond's face as it lit up with joy.

"I will indeed show my most enthusiastic gratitude, my Lord".

Smiling, Legolas turned back to the dance floor, spotting Glorfindel with Gildor, Galdithion with Llyn, Haldir with Arwen – it was going to be an interesting night, he thought, as he adjusted his seat.

….

Some hours later found the lords sprawled indecorously over the colourful cushions in Celebrian's gardens, now a permanent fixture – so popular they had been.

Yet since his crowning, he had been puzzled as to where Aiwendil and Mithrandir had gone. He wished to speak to the brown wizard regarding the nature of his 'apprenticeship', yet he was nowhere to be found. When he had asked Elrond about it, he had simply answered that he had an errand to run, no further information had been forthcoming, and Legolas knew better than to press the point.

His attention was caught by Celeborn, who laughed deeply as he took a sip of his wine, listening to Erestor tell a funny tale involving Elrond and a rather inventive 10-year-old Elladan.

The atmosphere was relaxed, lazy, dreamy almost, for they had spent the entire evening feasting and drinking, yet the conversation turned necessarily to the future.

"Legolas, there is now very little left on the agenda for the Spring Festival" began Elrond. "There are but a few loose ends that will not take more than a week to iron out, write up and sign. What are your plans?" he asked. He had not wanted to start this conversation because the outcome was indeed obvious, yet the time factor was important to him, for he wished for a little more time, to say goodbye, to come to terms with what he knew had to be.

Legolas considered Elrond's question for a moment, reading the sadness in his eyes as he had asked, a sadness he knew was mirrored in his own.

"You are right, of course. One week seems about right to me. And I must return henceforth to the Greenwood. Yet during this week we must fix the list of names for the first rotation of the military and cultural exchanges we have agreed on, we will not be travelling back alone", he said, smiling kindly. "And, I hope to be back before long, if you will have me", he asked dutifully.

Elrond smiled and nodded, no answer was required. He knew what Legolas was doing, he was taking away the bite of separation, easing their parting by simply stating that this was not a goodbye, rather a 'see you soon', yet Glorfindel's face had dropped as he turned away from the conversation, not willing to face that reality just yet – they still had one week – one whole week he vowed he would make special, a memory for his Forest Lord to cling to in his absence, one for he himself to bide the time and dull the sting of separation.

"Well, my friends", said Legolas as he stood. "It is time for me to retire, if I may. The evening has been – memorable."

"Come, my King, I will escort you" offered Elrond, "for I too will retire" he added, rising and nodding to his friends as Erestor and Glorfindel joined them, nodding a good evening to the Lords of Lorien.

"Good night, my Lords", said Galadriel, a knowing smile on her placid face.

Once the group had left, she turned to Celeborn, a far-away look on her face.

"If Celebrian were here, she too, would have retired."

And Celeborn's eyebrows rose, wondering if he had understood her correctly.

….

Once inside Elrond's chambers, they shed their over-robes and sat themselves comfortably around the hearth.

"Dwarven brandy!" exclaimed Erestor, as he showed them the stone bottle triumphantly. "I had forgotten all about this, it was a gift to me so long ago – it was stashed in the deepest recesses of my rooms. Shall we try it?" he asked mischievously, for dwarven brandy had a reputation for ruining the senses and heightening the libido.

"Oh aye!" exclaimed Glorfindel, looking at Erestor in wonder. "You are a bundle of surprises, advisor."

"Yes, well, after drinking _this_, we _all _may be, if what they say is true."

"Out with it", said Elrond, eager for a taste of the rare spirit, and so Erestor served him first, waiting for his reaction.

Closing his eyes, he rolled the thick liquid over his tongue, around his mouth, testing the retro-nasal aromas it produced. Swallowing, his eyes flew open as he exclaimed loud enough to startle Erestor.

"ogggggghh, Valar – 'tis pure _fire,_ try it!" he said enthusiastically, taking his second sip as Erestor served his lovers.

Ten minutes later, and the lords were beginning to feel the exquisite results of the fiery spirit. Glorfindel lay on the floor, his limbs sprawled indecorously, his legs wide apart. Erestor slumped against the sofa, feet straight out in front of him as he cocked his elbow once more, tipping his glass to his eager lips.

Elrond sipped as he watched the Forest Lord, who kept his cool, apparently at least, yet his gaze was fixed on the bulge in Glorfindel's breeches, he simply stared as he drank, and Elrond smiled.

….

Light filtered through his throbbing eyelids, urging him to open them, yet he would not, for his mind told him in no uncertain terms that he needed darkness, to avoid the light, and so he turned his head away from the source of it, hoping to fall back into slumber. Yet it was not to be, for a rustling off to his left, followed by a dip in the bed had brought him back to conscience as he cracked his eyes open, only to close them immediately.

"Glorfindel?"

"Um – leave me be".

Someone chuckled, then whispered something he could not quite catch.

"Glorfindel, sit up, drink this."

Opening just one eye this time, he saw Elrond smiling down at him, a cup in his hand.

Rising enough to take it, he swallowed it all without thinking, and then regretting it as the sickly liquid crept down his throat.

"For the love of Elbereth! Elrond, must you?" he grumbled.

Elrond chuckled again as Glorfindel finally sat up and took in his surroundings. The two dark-haired elves accompanied him on the bed, as Legolas entered the room from the bathing chamber, a thin wrap around his waist.

"Good morning, you sloth. Have you taken your dose of Elrond's special brew?" he smirked.

"Oh aye, have you all had it? Do you all feel as bad as I?" he asked in self-pity, raking his hands through his muddled hair.

"We did", confessed Erestor, but we have been up for half an hour, the effect wears off quickly, you will soon feel better" he said, smiling.

Well that was a relief, he thought as he brightened somewhat, patting the space at his side for Legolas to sit with him, yet the lord did not move.

"I am _not_ sitting down, thank you" he said, somewhat irritated, for his backside smarted from last night's beating.

Glorfindel smiled as it all came back to him, the night had been explosive, the dwarven brandy living up to its reputation – they had all lost control last night, and Legolas' backside had paid the price.

"Then come lie down" he smiled saucily, making more room as Legolas lay himself on his side in front of Glorfindel, feeling his hard cock against his red hot buttocks.

Yet he didn't rub himself against them as he normally would have, instead he gently pushed the silk away and rubbed his palm over the red skin, observing the marks they had all left there.

"Let me see", said Elrond, revealing the taught buttocks completely, tutting at what he saw.

"Aye, we have marked you – that must hurt", he said apologetically.

"It does, but by the Gods it was worth it!" he said as he looked at them all, his face alight – for never had he enjoyed so much pleasure on one single night and he told them so.

"I admit", began Erestor carefully, "that I have been worried that we treated you too – harshly" he said tentatively.

It was clear to Legolas that they all felt the same, and so he smiled as he answered.

"Oh you were harsh, and you have indeed marked me" he paused wickedly before continuing. "But I enjoyed every brazen, wanton moment of it!" he exclaimed.

He was met by three relieved faces that smiled and chuckled, all of them wondering where they could get more dwarven brandy, and when they could do it again, for their appetite had been whetted, and there was no turning back.

THE END

Coming soon: The protégé V: Harvest


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